


Bucket List: Before I Die

by Nona__AM



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucket List, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22057105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nona__AM/pseuds/Nona__AM
Summary: Workaholic Robin Locksley finally decides on a break from his time-consuming career as a lawyer to help cross off the goals on his fiancée's, Regina Mills, bucket list. However, along the way, their journey proves to be more than just a few once-in-a-lifetime experiences. There's a lesson learned with every adventure, challenges faced, and the spiritual healing he desperately needed, yet, overlooked for years.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood
Comments: 25
Kudos: 24





	1. Aurora Borealis

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I haven't visited any of the places mentioned in the fic and I haven't done what they've done, so a lot of things are more than likely going to be wrong. I apologize for that and if any misinformation might offend anyone. If it does, please let me know, same goes for any of my mistakes. Thank you and happy reading!

Boarding a plane from Manhattan, New York at four in the morning for a five hours and forty minutes long flight to Reykjavik, Iceland just to witness the northern lights in person was something Robin Locksley didn’t really plan. But his fiancée, Regina Mills, did. 

She had a list, a bucket list, or a ‘Before I Die’ list as she preferred to call it, where she’d written down all of her life goals and everything else she wanted to accomplish in life before the reaper came along to collect what was his. From bungee jumping in Bloukrans River Bridge in South Africa to this, flying over two-thousand-six-hundred miles across the ocean to see some colorful auras dance around the night sky—both they could’ve easily done in Canada. But Regina was a stubborn one. Nothing could ever change her mind once it was set. Nothing could go through her thick skull, and Robin could never say no to her wishes, especially whenever she’d strike him with that hard to resist puppy face of hers. It was impossible. One look at her big, chocolate brown eyes and full, wobbly lower lip sticking out in a precious pout was all it would ever take. She had him wrapped around her finger.

He was in trouble, that much he knew, but looking at her like that, curled up into his side on her seat with her eyes shut, her breathing steady as she slept, she looked harmless. Completely innocent. All the excitement might’ve worn her out. Adorable. She looked tiny, and she’d murder him if she ever heard him call her that out loud. 

Robin reached over and used the back of his index to push a stray, dark curl away from her face and tucked it behind her ear as careful as he possibly could without waking her up. She stirred anyways, bright eyes blinking up at him as she greeted him with her contagious smile. 

She was perfect. Flawless, dare he say, even with her flaws—how the hell did he end up lucky enough to call her ‘his’ and vice versa? 

“Hi,” she mumbled, then sank her teeth into her lower lip as she stretched her arms above her head, and God, he just wanted to kiss her again, and again and again. He could never grow tired of that. “Are we up yet?” she asked. She must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep before the plane even took off, and was she really too content in the awkward position she was in to not bother turning to the window on her side and check on her own if the plane had taken off or not? 

Robin smiled and shook his head. Almost, just a few minutes, their captain promised as he apologized for the delay. He laid a hand over her cheek, and she leaned into it, closing her eyes again at his touch. Breathtaking, that was exactly what she was. “You’re still tired,” he stated the obvious, observing the way her heavy eyelids struggled to stay open. She didn’t deny it, nodding her head with a hum. “Sleep. We still have almost _six_ hours to go anyways,” he teased, eliciting a tired but wholehearted chuckle out of her. One of his favorite sounds. Her laughter was music to his ears. 

“I still can’t believe we’re actually going to Iceland!” She beamed with her eyes still shut, and it made his own smile widen knowing he was the one helping her cross one of the goals on her bucket list. Hopefully, he’ll be right there beside her through all of them, too. 

“I know,” Robin said, removing his jacket to drape it over her. They were given blankets upon being seated, clean-looking, white blankets still wrapped in their plastic packages, but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t want them for the same reason she’d wipe down the cutlery in restaurants and avoid public toilets no matter how badly she had to go. “And then we’re going to London and then South Africa.”

Her eyes blinked open and her smile grew into a grin. “I still can’t believe you agreed to go bungee jumping with me.”

Neither could he, considering the fact that he was terrified of heights. He couldn’t let her go alone, though. He’d be too worried, sick to his stomach thinking about every possible thing that could go wrong that might lead him to losing her. 

God, the things he was willing to do in the name of love. 

“First and last,” he affirmed with a titter. “Skydiving better not be on that list of yours either because it’s never gonna happen.” 

Regina laughed and shook her head. “Everything else is pretty harmless,” she promised. “Bungee jumping is probably the only dangerous thing I wrote down.” 

He knew that already, he’d seen the list. She showed it to him, the first version of it anyways, excitedly rambled about all the adventures she couldn’t wait to go on. They weren’t as extreme as putting their lives on the line, quite literally, by jumping off a bridge with a rope tied around their ankles. They were simple and not as tricky to cross off her list— _ride in a hot air balloon, lean sign language, kiss under the mistletoe, eat only fruits for an entire month, write a letter to myself and open it in ten years, etc._

They were things that didn’t require much and yet, seemed to mean a whole lot to her. She crossed off quite a few of them, too, and he helped with some, if not most. They rode in a hot air balloon and kissed under a mistletoe, and she, somehow, managed to eat fruits and nothing but fruits for an entire month. It was a struggle, one he didn’t make any easier by tempting her with her favorite; big, juicy cheeseburgers. Nevertheless, like the champ that she was, she pulled through. They watched a lunar eclipse take place through a telescope he borrowed from his friend and she was in the process of learning sign language. 

“Buckle up, Your Majesty,” Robin said, pulling the belt around his torso at the stewardess instructions and grinned. “And get ready for take off.” 

* * *

They were given the option beforehand to book a tour that specialized in chaperoning tourists around to experience the northern lights, meals were included, thermal baths and glacier walks, too, and again upon their arrival to the hotel, but Regina refused. It would take away from the experience, she claimed. It wouldn’t be the same, it wouldn't feel right with dozen other strangers tagging along and, well, it was her bucket list. Who was he to argue with her logic? 

“All set?” Robin asked, his hands reaching to tug the thick material of the black, winter coat Regina wore, making sure it was secured around her and that she was all prepared for the freezing weather awaiting them outside the comforting warmth of their hotel. It was a nice hotel, a four-star hotel with incredible service, and their bathroom had a tub that could easily fit them both. Scatter some rose petals around and light up a few candles, and a cheap bottle of red wine from the grocery store within a walking distance away would make for a perfect night in. But no, Regina wanted to go out in the cold, she wanted to go northern lights hunting—the fact that it was even a thing was amusing. 

“All set,” Regina confirmed with a beam, her smile as wide as a child let loose in a candy store. 

“And you’re absolutely certain you don’t want us to fetch back something to eat from…well, wherever and stay in, watch whatever movie we can find that’s in English?” he suggested. Anything, truly, would be better than being out in that weather. But she shook her head, her mind set, and he sighed in defeat. His shoulders sagged but a smile brightened his face at her chuckle. “Fine. But there’s still time to change your mind on our way down.”

“If you’re really making such a big deal out of this, I’d hate to see what you’ve got in store for the bungee jumping,” she teased, her voice lighthearted as she bumped into him on their way out of their room and toward the elevator. She pressed the button with the arrow pointing down then turned to him, her arms snaking around his neck, and his slipped around her waist, pressing her flush against him. “Thank you for doing this with me.” 

“Always,” he whispered, stealing a quick kiss before stepping into the elevator. 

The first thing they did upon arriving to the lobby was check if they had everything they needed on them—water bottles that were filled to the brim, some snacks incase they got hungry, the camera, their phones that were fully charged and other necessities. The second thing was ask the front desk clerk, again, about the daily northern lights forecast—another thing Robin discovered was an actual thing—and luckily for them, there was a great chance of seeing them, clear as day, the receptionist promised. Third thing was getting into the rental car he got and driving to their destination; Thingvellir National Park. It was between that or Grótta lighthouse, a seemingly popular spot to view the northern lights, which would defeat the whole purpose of ditching the tour guide for some of that alone, one-on-one time Regina wanted. So Thingvellir it was. 

“Have we forgot anything?” Robin asked, because double-checking never hurt anyone. However, it definitely annoyed Regina, who responded to his question with an eye roll and a huff, making him chuckle. She was like a little child promised to be taken to the park, too eager to wait another second. “I’m simply asking, my love! It’s a long drive over. Say we arrive and then realize we haven’t brought the camera with us, what’s gonna happen then?”

“Then we enjoy the moment and cherish the memory,” she replied. “I don’t understand your obsession with taking pictures of _every_ single thing.”

“Because sometimes memories are just not enough,” he answered. “We need a little something extra to treasure, and a picture of said wonderful moment would capture it forever. It would do.” 

It was his thing, taking pictures. Ever since he got his hands on his father’s camera as a little boy, he’d been clicking away, catching the happy and the sad moments, the memories of the olden days frozen in time, framed and kept. Living in the moment was irreplaceable, but having a single picture one could reflect back onto was priceless. It was just a hobby, though. Because being a professional photographer couldn’t possibly pay their trips to Iceland and the other countries they were yet to cross off Regina’s list. 

He was an attorney and he loved his job. He worked on many big cases that made the headlines, including the infamous murder of Leopold Blanchard, CEO of Blanchard’s Mining Company, slaughtered by none other than his assistant, Sidney Glass. The old man was a pig, everyone knew that, and maybe it was a harsh thing to say, but he had it coming. He was involved in many criminal activities, it was just a matter of time before it all eventually caught up to him. His job was tiring but fun, in a way it made Robin feel like a superhero for helping put the bad guys behind bars. 

“You’re so sappy,” Regina snickered.

“And that’s why you love me,” Robin replied, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“That’s why I love you,” she agreed. “Amongst other things.” 

“Oh?” He chuckled, shifting his attention away from the road for a split second to glance at her. “Care to clarify?”

She shook her head and, with a broad smile taking up her entire face, turned the volume up on the stereo, reminding him of the song that’d been playing for a little while, a song he long forgot about to the sound of her laughter. Nothing could quite compare to that. 

He let go of the subject without any argument, without pressing to know despite his curiosity, because who in their right mind would pass up on the opportunity of seeing her sing along to Elton John without a care in the world? Not him, certainly. It was one of the best concerts he’d ever been to, and it was free! 

Between the navigation system installed in the car that continued to glitch and the roads they were unfamiliar with, it took them an hour to arrive to their destination, and something might’ve happened during that hour because the sky was no long clear. The blankets of cobalt blue were scattered with belts of white cotton balls instead, taking away any chances of seeing the northern lights later that night. That was the thing with the weather, it was iffy. The forecast would predict a sunny day and it’ll be pouring by the afternoon. Regina was unbothered by that, though. 

“We can come back tomorrow,” she suggested, shoulders bobbing in a careless shrug, as if she wasn’t the one that dragged him on a plane from New York to Iceland just to see them—and why was he so upset like it was something he wrote down to cross off a bucket list? “We still have two more days in Iceland anyways.” 

Robin sighed, his shoulders sagging in surrender, not that he had any other choice. Sulking wouldn’t blow away the clouds. “I suppose.” 

“Come on,” she cooed at him the way she often cooed at infants, looping one arm around his before lifting the other to give his cheek a pinch, making him grunt and push her hand away. “My precious, little baby.” 

“Stop,” he tittered, moving her hand away when she snuck it up again to reach for the other cheek. 

“Who’s the little baby?” she continued. “Oh, you are. Yes you are!” 

All the baby talk made it harder for him to pretend he was upset over their rotten luck, impossible for him to stifle his laughter. He chortled, and with one swoop, scooped her up into his arms. 

They didn’t get to see any northern lights, but the day didn’t turn out too badly in the end. They still smiled, they still laughed—that had to count for something. 

* * *

They returned to their hotel room exhausted. Between the long flight from one country to another and the two-hours drive in total going to and coming back from their northern lights hunting destination, they barely had any time to put their feet up and rest. It was a few minutes after they checked into their hotel that they found themselves wandering the city for something to eat instead, then out again minutes after returning to pack their necessities. 

Unlike every other night, Robin didn’t need to plug in the soothing sounds of the ocean waves clashing against rocks and seagulls cawing or count sheep to help him sleep. He was out like a light as soon as his head touched the pillow, but no thanks to time difference and jet lag, he found himself awake before seven in the morning. To his surprise, so was Regina. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she greeted, plopping right atop of him before he could fully blink the sleep away. 

His hands moved up her thighs, finding them bare, no sign of the sweatpants she wore to bed the night before. That was enough to get his attention. “Good morning indeed.” 

Tousled curls and face clean of any speck of makeup, and God, was she the most stunning person he’d ever seen. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, tucking a strand behind her ear just as she bent over him to press her mouth to his in a featherlight kiss. What a wonderful way to wake up. 

“Good,” she answered, a whisper against him, and he wasted no time capturing her lips in another—feverish, urgent, desperate for closeness. His hand brushed over her cheek, cupping the side of her face, and her fingers carded through his short hair, tugging until their chests were touching, bodies pressed flush against each other. 

She hummed, and he sighed, nudging her back without breaking their kiss until he had her pressed against the bed, trapped between him and the mattress. It wasn’t something they planned for the day, it wasn’t on their schedule to savor one another like there was no tomorrow, but there was always time for a bit of endearment. Life was always on the move, stopping for no one no matter the reason and, sometimes, moments like that were needed to serve as a reminder for the love they had—the love they neglected to focus on the tasks life continuously threw their way. On Robin’s part, being the lawyer that he was, he was the one that lacked contribution over the years chasing after one case following the other to secure them a future without having to depend on anyone. He loved Regina, dearly, but he’d done a horrible job showing that in his actions.

He moved back reluctantly and smiled down at her, his fingers brushing away the hair from her face to tuck behind her ear—a gesture he learned years ago made her blush, back when she was a young, bashful thing, not the confident woman she grew to be. Still, it brought a smile to her face. “I love you,” he whispered, and God, did he ever. 

“I know,” she answered with a wide, cheeky grin taking up her entire face, making him shake his head and chuckle. 

And she called him a cocky bastard.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” he teased, bending to steal one last kiss before getting off the bed with a stretch. “Now up, gorgeous, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.” 

Their morning started with breakfast in bed. It was cold out and the quilt that covered them was too cozy to let go of, and neither of them was ready to put on any pants and face the world anyways. It took too much effort to put into so early in the day. But after hours of lazily lounging around and clicking through the channels the hotel cable offered, they got up and got dressed, and toured the city they’d be leaving the next evening. 

What kind of tourists would they be if they didn’t explore the other marvels Iceland had to offer other than the northern lights? 

So they began their half-day journey into the city—their first stop? The Reykjavik Maritime Museum. While the ocean and everything that remained undiscovered within it didn’t really interest Robin, if anything, he had an irrational fear of it, terrified of being attacked by a shark out of the blue no matter how close the beach he’d be, it was all and everything Regina was passionate about. The ocean life in general was something that brought her joy, even if he didn’t understand it. What was so nice about being roughed around by waves and swallowing gallons of salt water, all the while getting sunburned? They were polar opposites. Summer was her favorite season and he preferred the harshness of the winter, but they compromised. He went to the beach with her and she slip and slid across a frozen lake with him every December, and that was what made them so interesting, strong even years on, their differences that kept them on their toes. 

The museum was interesting. Having it sit atop of a harbor was a plus, making it a little more intriguing for someone who wasn’t so easily intrigued by the ocean life. That and it was really hard not to listen whenever Regina gasped and went on to explain something about whatever it was that caught her attention. She did hell of a better job than the little historical films they played to explain everything to the visitors. It was precious, really, how her face lit up at the sight of the artifacts and the rows of ship models, and even the wall of dried and salted fish heads—odd as that was. She was like a kid in a candy store, and he almost couldn’t pull her out of the place. He had to remind her of the whole purpose of being in Iceland to begin with to convince her to leave.

“Everything seems good so far,” Robin announced, updating Regina on the weather forecast to avoid another mishap like the one from the day before. 

It was nobody’s fault. No one could control the weather. No human being could bring rain to a dry land or blow away the clouds to enjoy a calm, starry night. Everything happened for a reason, even if no one knew the reason at times. There were so many things in his life that’d gone downhill, taking a different turn to the worse, changing the paths he planned for his future, and he still wasn’t sure why so many of those things even took place. Why the things that happened, happened. 

“The phones are charged,” Regina said. “Both water bottles are here, both are full, and we’ve got some snacks in the bag, too.” 

“You’re telling me that we’ve been on the road for almost an hour and you haven’t eaten them all yet?” He gasped, feigning surprise that earned him a sharp smack on the bicep and drew a wince in the midst of his chuckle. “Easy, woman.” 

“Don’t test me,” she grumbled, lifting a claw to tease him with as she often did before pretending to scratch him with her manicured nails. 

“Never!” he claimed with a chortle, swiftly crossing his heart in affirmation that brought out the sweet laughter out of her beside him.

They headed down the southern region of the area after parking the rental car at the entrance and sat close by the serene lake as they waited for the sun to set over the horizon, for the bright, blue sky to turn dark, and for the stars to blink through them. Those little space diamonds Regina wished upon every so often. Falling from space or not, it made little difference to her. They were still stars even if they weren’t shooting across the milky way, and she still stood by the window at night, fingers entwined and eyes closed as she whispered her wishes and dreams to them, secret prayers she never told him about.

Did any of them come true? He always wondered, considering he never really believed in shooting stars, eleven-eleven, blowing birthday candles or even tossing a coin in a fountain. Nothing was for certain. No wish-granting method was warranted.

It was finally dark but there was no sight of the northern lights. No waves of green and purple auras dancing along the night sky. They waited years to witness them, though, surely waiting a couple more minutes or even hours wouldn’t make much of a difference. 

“Still set on that bungee jumping idea?” Robin asked, his fingers threading through Regina’s hair, detangling the knots that formed throughout her raven curls, and she seemed alright so far. No wrong move on his behalf that might’ve inflected pain, she laid comfortably on the blanket they packed with them, her head nestled in his lap. 

“Are you chickening out again?” Regina quipped, shifting onto her back to get a better look at him, and he bent over, stealing a quick kiss off her lips. 

They were freezing cold, but what did he expect in such weather? He wore gloves and still couldn’t feel his fingers, and he could see his breath, and hers, every time either of them spoke. 

One would think they’d get used to that living in New York City. 

“I’m not,” he lied, “I was just double-checking.” 

She hummed doubtfully and turned her head, pressing her lips to his knee as she curled into him. “It’ll be fun,” she promised. 

“What’s fun about potentially, quite literally, jumping into your death?” he scoffed. 

“Many things!” she challenged, pushing herself upright into a sitting position, a beam lighting her entire face. “It’s fun seeing things from a whole other perspective, another angle—“

“You mean upside down?” he cut in, and his interruption gained him a smack on the arm. He was used to those, playful and yet, they stung a little. As he often chaffed her; tiny, but mighty. 

“No, idiot, it’s not that. It’s getting the opportunity to go different places and do new things, challenge your fears and, in a way, it’s therapeutic,” she briefly explained. 

“Therapeutic?” he repeated in disbelief. “Just how in the hell is bungee jumping therapeutic!”

“Think of it as an opportunity to feel free,” she said. “Freedom in the sense of letting go of the urge to have control over every little thing, because when you’re falling, you have no control. You can’t stop time, you can’t pause the fall. What you can do is panic and think of every possible scenario of what could possibly go wrong…or you could admire what’s around you on your way down. Yes, even if everything would be upside down.” Her eyes rolled and a chuckle bubbled its way out of her before she continued, “See, if you spend your life planning everything and something doesn’t go the way you want it to, you’ll gain nothing but stress from it, and then you’ll stress over the plans you set that should’ve fallen into place like the perfect set of dominos after it, and it’ll just be constant stress and worry. You’ll be frustrated and miserable, but if you spend your life going with the flow, you won’t feel like you’re carrying more weight than you can handle. You woke up late, got stuck behind a long line at the coffee shop and they ended up getting your order wrong atop of it all? Don’t waste your breath reordering and holding up the line for the rest, you might just enjoy that additional pump of vanilla in your latte and it could just be your new favorite thing. Car broke down on your way to work and you have a really important meeting ahead? Walk. You might just find a new store at the corner or run into someone that could change your life, and _that_ is therapeutic. Letting go and letting life be is therapeutic. Sometimes you just gotta fall.” 

Perhaps that was the case. 

Perhaps letting go every now and then was therapeutic to a certain degree. 

“But that still doesn’t mean I’d like for my life to literally be hanging by a thread,” he replied, and she responded with a laugh.

It was hours before anything happened, a long while after the sun had set and the stars stretched along the infinite belt of darkness that was the universe, scattered heavily in a way that was so rare to witness in the city that never slept. Near midnight and the bright, green auras appeared, purple hues melded in as they danced tranquilly along the sky. The world was full of wonders, Robin knew that, but the fact that something as awe-inspiring as the northern lights existed was beyond him. It wasn’t something his brain fabricated, not something that only appeared in fantasy movies using all sorts of technologies the film industry used nowadays for their impressive effects. It was real and it was extraordinary, and witnessing it with Regina by his side made it all the more special. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t share that moment with anybody else. It was worth the long flight. 

** Seeing the northern lights in Iceland: check.  **


	2. Bungee Jumping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any mistakes you might find, do tell me about them if they're THAT bad though! Again, I've not been to any of the places included in this fic (unless stated otherwise) so all the information I got I found on Google.

It was a drastic change going from the sub-zero temperatures in Reykjavik to the warmth of Cape Town. They ditched their parka coats for tank tops and shorts, and their boots for sandals. No more hot cocoa to keep them nice and toasty during a snowfall, it was all about the frozen beverages in the sweat-inducing climate, icy drinks to quench their seemingly never-ending thirst, and that was all they did on their first day in South Africa. They laid back and relaxed in their hotel room with some of the refreshments room service so kindly offered on their menu and enjoyed a couple movies they rented off the internet. It was a much needed treat after an almost twenty-four hours travel. 

Robin was the first to wake up from what he’d claim was a nap and what Regina would insist that a four hours sleep was absolutely not—if it was less than five hours, though, it was a nap in his book. He left her sprawled on the mattress, tangled up in the bedsheets and headed straight to the balcony with his phone in hand, skimming through the mass of messages that poured in the instant his phone was switched back on. 

“Work,” he mumbled to himself. Work again. More work. A little more. “Oh, Mom.” 

Just like work, his mother’s texts came flooding in after that. 

_hope you’re well, Robbie, miss you loads xxx_

_how was Iceland? Cold I bet!_

_Why aren’t you answering?_

_Getting worried, sweetheart xxx_

_oh, you’re on the plane, aren’t you? Dad says you probably are, going to South Africa?_

_please get back to me when you land, you know me, always biting my nails over nothing xxx_

And she did, his sweet mother. She always worried over the silliest things, especially when it came to him. She felt uneasy when he didn’t call her that one time because he was working all day and ended up passing out, still in his work clothes, as soon as he got home since she’d gotten used to him calling at least once a day from the time he moved out of England and settled in the United States. Bless her heart, he was sure she was just hours, if not, minutes away from reporting him as a missing person. That was how bad she often concerned herself. So he responded, because any longer and the poor woman would lose her sanity. 

_Hi, Mum. I’m alright, I promise. Just arrived in Cape Town yesterday, slept the entire day basically. Gonna go out and explore today. Tell Dad I said hi. Love you loads xxx_

He slipped his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants and walked back in, shuddering at the slight change in temperature between the heat outside on the balcony and the chilliness that came from the air conditioner, blasting cold air throughout the place. Knowing Regina, though, she was in Heaven. No matter how frosty their bedroom would get back home, she’d rather add on another layer than to turn the air conditioner off or even down. But that wasn’t the worst part of it all, it was the fact that she would snag the quilt and the extra blanket and curl up into them until she was buried beneath the entire thing, leaving him shivering, teeth chattering on his side of the bed. She’d be the death of him one of those days. 

He looked at her and smiled fondly at how comfortable she seemed, all stretched out over the center of the bed, her pillow thrown to the side as she cuddled his close instead. He shook his head with a smothered chuckle and then reached down for the piece of paper folded neatly on the desk. Her list. He needed to go through that damn thing one more time, refresh his memory by looking over the unchecked ones they still had left on it. 

_Eat pizza in Italy: check._

He flew her to Italy as a surprise years ago after winning his first big case. It was just for a few days, not even a week, and they hardly got out of Milan, but he’d never seen her any happier than she was on their short trip in Europe. The smile never left her face and she truly said a big ‘fuck you’ to her diet and ate her weight in pasta and pizza, and drank wine until he practically had to carry her the rest of the way to their hotel and all the way up to their room. 

_Give a homeless person, or two, a Christmas gift: check._

She did that on their third date. Since their first was at a cafe over a couple of steaming mugs of coffee and a slice of a decadent chocolate cake shared between them and their second was a picnic at the beach with a delicious Mediterranean spread Regina generously prepared and put together for them alongside a bottle of red wine, he decided to treat her to a fancy dinner on the third. He reserved a table for two at an Italian restaurant in the city and by the end of the evening, when their dinner was wolfed down and dessert was demolished, she ordered another meal, which surprised him when she hadn’t even finished hers—had it bagged and ready to go instead. She asked the waitress to do the same with the extra meal and refused to let him pay a dime for it, no matter how much he pressed. It was odd but he let it go, thinking it was next day’slunch. It was understandable and relatable, sometimes he’d rather eat leftovers from the night before over cooking a whole meal from scratch, too. 

That wasn’t the case, though, because after leaving the restaurant, she stopped by the thrift store just a few walks down from where they dined and bought a coat and a couple blankets, and then gave them away to the old man sitting close by with both styrofoam takeaway boxes. She even slipped him whatever change she seemed to have on her at the time. 

He knew he loved her then. 

_Donate blood: check._

That one made him smile. Considering she used to be terrified of needles, that was a big step for her. The things that woman was willing to do to bring happiness to others never ceased to amaze him. 

_Ride a horse on the beach: check._

He remembered that day like it was yesterday.

Horseback riding was never something Robin really considered. In fact, horses intimidated him ever since he nearly got his teeth knocked out as a child when he made the mistake of standing too close behind a stallion at the farm his grandfather owned back in England. Luckily for him, his older cousin was standing nearby and just about managed to pull him away before any harm was done. Nevertheless, the incident traumatized him, which was exactly why it took his friend, David, a whole year to convince him to come with him, and, God, was he grateful for that pigheaded son of a bitch. He met Regina as a result of his mate’s stubbornness. He might’ve looked like an absolute nightmare, petrified, a shaking mess on top of the horse when she rode hers past him, poised and confident, everything that he wasn’t, and if the roles were switched, he would’ve probably avoided himself at all cost, but she didn’t. She guided her horse back to him and asked if he was alright, pearly whites sinking into her lower lip, no doubt in an attempt to stop herself from laughing at his sight, and that one question changed his entire life—

“Babe?” 

Robin looked up from the list he was holding and followed his partner’s hoarse voice calling out for him. About time. He was starting to wonder if she’d wake up at all. He snickered and shook his head when he turned and found her eyes still shut, then folded the paper and set it aside in its rightful place on the side of the desk before approaching her. 

“What’re you doing?” she muttered through a yawn just as he climbed onto the bed.

“Just checking the bucket list, making sure we’re going through it as planned,” he explained, lowering himself down beside her. “But now I’m doing something entirely different.” 

“And that is?” she husked, and he responded by planting a kiss to her neck, and then another and another, dragging his lips down across her collarbone to her bare shoulders, nipping at her exposed skin. 

That had to have answered her question. 

* * *

Instead of the almost seven hours drive from Cape Town to Bloukrans Bridge, they could’ve easily settled somewhere closer. Plettenberg Bay was an option. It was a beautiful seaside town with so much to offer and just half an hour away from their destination, but Cape Town was the place most tourists visited and, well, they were tourists after all, and while they haven’t done all the touristy things yet or went to popular tourists attractions, they planned to.

If they survive that godawful bungee jumping experience first anyways, because if the jump itself wouldn’t kill them, Robin was sure his heart would do the job. 

Their first day on the bridge was, thankfully, not the extreme part of their journey. They booked a walk across it instead, something to help them familiarize with their location and the atmosphere, and prepare them for the jump the next day. Frightening as it was being so high up, walking across a metal structure suspended in the air and supported by being connected to the mountains on both ends that could very well collapse at any point—well, he hoped not anyways, he was a lawyer, not an architect, he was as clueless as clueless could be when it came to those things—the view was breathtaking. 

Maybe Regina was right after all. 

Maybe all he had to do was stop and take a moment to admire the world around him, even if he had to do it by bloody bungee jumping. 

“Ready?” Regina quipped, a cheshire cat smile taking up her entire face. “Session’s already booked, there’s no turning back now.” 

“Technically, there is,” Robin argued. “I can still walk right off the bridge today and never return tomorrow.” 

“And the money you paid?” 

“To hell with it,” he grumbled. It was money, and money often came and went. He’ll make more than triple of what he paid picking up a simple case. He wasn’t going to, though, because he gave his word. 

His goddamn word that repeatedly got him in trouble. 

“You’re gonna do it,” she said, a knowing smile brightened her face. It wasn’t a question nor was it a demand, rather a statement because she knew him like the back of her hand, knew he was the kind of idiot that would answer with _how high?_ if she asked him to jump for her. And he would, in a heartbeat. 

“Well, I didn’t travel halfway across the continents to throw in the towel now.” 

He could, because traveling from one country to another wasn’t a solid excuse to begin with. He could still enjoy South Africa, enjoy everything _safe_ it had to give, however, he knew he wouldn’t return home satisfied knowing he didn’t go through with that one thing he was meant to do. He wouldn’t be pleased with himself having skipped something on her bucket list. It was there for a reason.

Regina clicked her tongue in disagreement. “You’re gonna do it because you can’t say no to me, because you’re actually a big softy deep down and you just don’t wanna admit it.” 

“You happen to be mistaken.”

“Oh please!” she scoffed. “You really wanna do this right now? Because you know better than to claim _I’m_ wrong.” 

He did know better than to say that, hence regretting his words as soon as they left his mouth. Regina practically invented the word stubborn. Had she picked up any interest in law, she would’ve been ten times the lawyer he was. She was too goddamn stubborn to back down from any argument, she would’ve won every case handed to her based on annoyance itself. Arguing with her was _worse_ than talking to a brick wall. No judge in their right mind would put up with that but, frankly, her willful personality was just one of the many reasons he fell head over heels for her. 

“Have you always been this stubborn?” he grouched. 

“Long before you even decided you liked me,” she retorted with a wide, cheeky grin. “Now, come on. I’m sick of being in one place. Feels like we’ve been standing in this spot forever.” 

She took him by the hand and dragged him further down the bridge, passing by the others who, unlike them, were taking their sweet time and enjoying themselves and the view from up top. Halfway through, though, she stopped and turned to him. 

“Here,” she announced. 

“Here?” he replied, utterly confused by the one word she said out of the blue. 

“Let’s take a picture, right here,” she explained, gesturing around them at the breathtaking view of the emerald mountains surrounding them and the barely visible seascape of the cerulean Indian Ocean far ahead. “A keepsake,” she added. 

He was too worried about the risky adventure awaiting them the next day, his thoughts on if he’d ever make it out of South Africa alive distracted him from reality, the fact that she led them to the very center of the bridge, giving them the ideal spot to see it all. He wasn’t a religious man, but he was in awe of the beauty that was God’s creation, of every little detail that was life. So he pulled the digital camera out of the backpack he carried and looked around for someone that didn’t seem so dead on their feet from the walk or miffed by heat that would so graciously take a picture of them. 

“Excuse—excuse me, Miss?” Robin called out for the older lady’s attention as she walked past them with a group of other middle-aged women. She appeared hesitant but stopped in her tracks, and he gave her a kind smile at that and held the camera toward her. “Sorry to be a bother, but would you mind taking a picture of us real quick?” 

The woman’s brows creased, almost as if his words were a cluster of gibberish. Surely it wasn’t the accent, was it? He always believed he had a fairly understandable British accent. Perhaps she didn’t speak English at all, that was a possibility. The place was packed with tourists from all over the place, after all. Except, she took the camera and responded with an unmistakablyAmerican accent and a smile. 

“Sure thing, darlin’.” 

Although confused, Robin brushed it off as miscommunication and wrapped an arm around Regina’s waist, pulling her close to his side before beaming in the direction of the camera when the woman began her countdown.

_Three…two…one…_

A faint click indicated the picture was taken and the woman gushing over it confirmed it. He thanked her and waved goodbye as she walked away with her friends, then turned the camera back on to approve of the photograph, make sure it wasn’t blurry or her finger was in the way. Just his luck, though, the battery died as soon as the device turned on. 

“Fuck,” Robin huffed out. 

“Everything okay?” Regina asked, resting a comforting hand over his bicep. 

He nodded with a sigh and waved the useless gadget around. “Yeah, battery just died.” 

“Shame…” she muttered under her breath with a click of her tongue, then shrugged nonchalantly and added, “but good.” She turned around, pressed her hands onto the railings and nodded to the striking landscape ahead of them. “Now we can actually enjoy this.” 

And enjoy it, they did. 

* * *

Usually, it was thoughts of work that kept Robin awake at night. Thoughts of big cases and tough cases that had him too stressed and too worried to be able to blink for even just a few minutes, not something he could’ve easily prevented like the jump he had to take in some several hours, probably to his impending death. All he had to do was say no. He wasn’t being forced into it, nobody was blackmailing him into fulfilling that goal, but his pride was too big for him to back down from a challenge.

His bloody pride that, no doubt, would be his downfall one day. 

Dressed and strapped with the harness and rope attached, Robin found himself standing on the ledge of the bridge with Regina by his side, just minutes away from what could possibly be the last moments of his life, if one of the many worst case scenarios he envisioned happened. While he was frozen with fear at the massive distance between where he stood and the fall down to the bottom, Regina was practically buzzing with excitement beside him. 

How could any sane person be excited over something as bungee jumping? He didn’t understand that, not at all. Couldn’t they find the thrill elsewhere? Taking a hike up a mountain was just as electrifying. Granted, it wasn’t actually nearly as adventurous, but surely it would’ve ticked the box for any daredevil. 

Probably not—but it hardly mattered anymore. 

“You ready, man?” the tall brunet cladded in the company’s shirt asked. 

He wasn’t, and looking down to where he was about to leap from, he wasn’t ever going to be, but he took in a deep breath and exhaled with a nod. “I’m doing this for you,” he said, glancing over at Regina, who herself was ready and, unlike him, wasn’t shaking like a leaf. 

“I know,” she responded with and chuckled as she shuffled toward him and wrapped her arms around his midsection, his own snaking around her. “I love you, you know.” 

“I love you, too,” he whispered. 

Somehow, just hearing those words gave him that little shove he needed, because on the count of three, and with his eyes squeezed shut and his love secured in his embrace, he pushed them off the ledge. He jumped. 

His grip tightened around her as they dived, an odd but not quite unpleasant tickling sensation stirred inside of him, swirling in the pit of his stomach and traveling up his chest with every sharp and shaky breath he took. 

“Open your eyes,” Regina cooed, and so he did, with a lot of hesitation, and focused on her instead. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he breathed out. 

“You did it,” she told him. 

“I—I did it,” he repeated with a stutter. 

He really did it, he jumped. He took that leap and…God, it truly was as freeing as he was promised it’d be. Scary, no doubt, but extraordinary. 

** Bungee jumping in South Africa: bloody check.  **


	3. Masquerade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, I've never visited any of the places included in the fic (unless stated otherwise) so there will be a few mistakes here and there, regarding Robin's occupation, too. Please correct anything you find wrong and even offending. And oh, all dumb mistakes are mind, kindly point them out lol.

Being British and spending the majority of his life in England, Robin never really had the chance to experience Halloween. It just wasn’t something largely celebrated where he lived. He knew of it. There were dozens and dozens of movies that featured and revolved around it, and as a child, he so desperately wished he could be a part of the celebration. He wanted to dress up in silly costumes, too, and go trick-or-treating around the neighborhood with his best friends, and then devour all his candies until he couldn’t stomach any more sweet treats. 

Unfortunately, by the time he moved to the United States and the perfect opportunity came along, he was far too old to put on a costume and walk door-to-door asking for candies. People his age didn’t do that. People his age dressed up in rather skimpy attires and went to parties that stretched long after midnight, got drunk off illegally obtained alcohol and made out against whatever surface that wasn’t already occupied by another couple snogging the night away. 

He hated it. 

Not even those parties were as thrilling as movies portrayed them to be, so he called it quits after attending two. _Third time’s a charm_ , be damned. He wasn’t going to be wasting any more of his valuable time on pointless things. Instead, he made himself a little tradition of staying home in his sweatpants with a bowl of homemade trail mix that consisted of things that the combination of raised a few brows over the years; salted cashews and peanuts, a packet or two of _Raisinets_ , depending on his mood at the time—specifically, the milk chocolate kind and nothing else—a handful of miniature marshmallows and some peanut M&M’s for good measure, and a large sausage, peppers and pineapple pizza for dinner, all the while playing horror movies back-to-back until dawn or falling asleep, whichever came first. 

Granted, he was still wasting away his valuable time on pointless things, but he was wasting his time doing things he enjoyed instead of being bored in a corner of some stranger’s house, awkward and uncomfortable, unsure if he was underdressed for the occasion or overdressed. At home, he was free to wear whatever, or nothing at all, without being judged. 

That was until Regina came into his life and turned it upside down in the most Regina way possible, forcing him out of his comfort zone by simply existing and being her extrovert self. She was everything he wasn’t—outgoing, adventurous, down to try anything and everything at least once in her lifetime. She was a social butterfly, the life of the party, and just being around her made him wanna try to experience new things, too. Emerge from the bubble he confined himself into for almost the entirety of his life. Not only because he came to realize just how truly boring he was, but mostly because he wanted to impress her, and impress her he did. But, not in the way he thought he would. 

It wasn’t the extreme things he was willing to try for her that had her in awe. While she made it quite obvious just how amusing it was seeing him gnaw and gag on the octopus he later admitted to only ordering because going with chicken parmesan and a side of spaghetti was too on the safe side and a slab of steak wasn’t all that special, and how she couldn't contain her laughter when he spent most of his time slipping and face planting the snowy grounds than he did actually skiing, something he’d never done in his life, whereas she seemed close to be an expert at it, it was the little things he never considered that did it. 

It was how he mindlessly played with her hair when they cuddled on the couch and watched a movie, or went through seven failed attempts to finally master the recipe of a dish she enjoyed. How, when she finally moved in with him, he left her those silly, little notes in the most unexpected places for her to find—some were compliments, some were an ‘I love you’ with little hearts, and some were as simple as smiley faces. It was how whenever he had some free time on hand, he’d experiment in the kitchen whenever he had some free time on hand and she’d come home to the smell of baked goods…sometimes burnt, but it was the thought that mattered, right? 

There was more, a lot more, she claimed but never disclosed. But it was those that made her realize she was in love with him…and he just knew the moment their eyes met. 

* * *

Their next stop wasn’t even on Regina’s bucket list, but she mentioned it before and how fascinating the place looked, and he wanted to surprise her with it. The Iguazu Falls. It sounded rather peaceful and cleansing to stand under such majestic looking waterfalls, so what was the harm in a quick pit stop over on the way back home? 

She was sprawled beside him in bed, engrossed in the latest novel she picked up from the airport by the end of their Icelandic journey, and he was in the process of booking the flight from Cape Town to Buenos Aires when the phone call came. A former client of his, Robert Gold, a real estate developer who was falsely accused of his then-wife’s murder. 

It was Robin’s first big case and it made nationwide news. It was given to him because he was the new guy, the underdog everyone underestimated, the loser that kept to himself and stuttered under pressure. He was given Robert’s files because the verdict was already set in stone and none of the big and proud lawyers working with him wanted a losing case—the man was guilty, they had stacks upon stacks of evidence against him. It would be a blow to their career, it would tear down what they worked on for years prior to Robin ever joining. 

But that case made his career. Because, even though they had all the evidence they needed to bring him to trial and win it without a hitch, they didn’t have a body. Not even a clue as to what could’ve happened to it, where it could be, whether it was discarded somewhere or not. They speculated but never agreed to anything, and something about it didn’t sit well with Robin. Granted, no-body cases existed and it could’ve been just that…but it didn’t feel like it, and he was right. 

In the most extraordinary twist life could’ve thrown their way, just when they believed they were starting to grasp at straws and inch closer to losing the case, Robert’s then-wife, Milah Gold, was found. Alive and well. She was never dead, never in great danger to begin with. She ran away with her lover, Killian Jones, who helped her frame Robert all for the sake of money. The worst part of it all was the teenage son they had together, shoved in the middle of the chaos, forced to believe his mother’s death and mourn her loss, made to hate his father for a crime he never committed. 

The world truly was a bizarre place. 

Nevertheless, there was a happy ending to that story. Milah and Killian were charged with obstruction of justice and more, and were jailed. Robert was acquitted on all counts and found love again, marrying a woman surprisingly much younger than him called Belle, but they’ve been going strong for eight years and counting, with a little boy of their own they named Gideon. Robert’s other son, Neal, rekindled his relationship with his father months after the trial ended and after much needed therapy. Robin, on the other hand, became respected amongst other lawyers and earned himself quite the reputation in the legal industry. All good, of course. 

The case shaped his career and, needless to say, he remained close to the Gold family. He and Regina were even invited to their wedding. So, when Robert called him out of the blue and told him all about the Halloween party he and his wife were throwing, he couldn’t say no to the invitation. Most certainly not when Regina overheard the conversation and looked at him with her chocolate brown eyes wide in awe and lower lip sticking out in a cute, little pout. 

Who could blame her? A Halloween-themed masquerade in New Orleans, of all places, did sound intriguing even to him, a man that long gave up on ever enjoying Halloween. Plus, attending a masquerade was on her bucket list, the opportunity simply never came until that phone call. 

The Iguazu Falls would have to wait, it was time to enjoy the magic of New Orleans and those sinful sounding beignets he heard all about. 

* * *

New Orleans was...to sum it up in a word, interesting. 

It was everything Robin imagined and, at the same time, not quite. 

Maybe it was the time of the year they decided to visit that had them greeted by the lively atmosphere. Maybe it was just how it'd always been. It was great—astounding, really. The colorful decorations hanging from every building, the mouth-watering aroma coming from the lined up restaurants, the loud music echoing the streets, the people. Everyone was so nice and welcoming, way beyond his expectations. 

But, silly as it was, he expected the things he saw in movies and television shows, and it was slightly disappointing that there wasn't a single vampire in sight. 

"Oh, stop pouting," Regina quipped, playfully bumping into his side as she walked past him to unpack her belongings. Unlike him who was more than happy digging through his bag on the daily for his outfits, pulling it all out article by article, and then piecing them together to form a decent attire, she enjoyed arranging everything in the wardrobes upon arrival. It made life easier, he'd give her that, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to do the same. It was too much of a hustle to put it all out and then fold it back in, even the clothes he knew he wouldn't touch, let alone, wear. "Monsters don't come out in broad daylight." 

"Monsters don't exist," Robin grumbled. 

That woman...God, she could read him like an open book. 

She hummed but said nothing more as she stayed focused on her task, gathering her clothes to put aside, separating the winter ones from the summer garments. How the hell did all that fit into her suitcase to begin with? Most likely same way all the crap fit into her purse, too, he assumed. 

Magic, there was no other explanation for it. 

Usually, he was on his feet to help within seconds, never waiting for her to ask him to. His mother raised him well, taught him to assist whoever needed the assistance, man or woman, young or old, it hardly mattered, but Regina was...well, Regina. She was organized when it came to certain things, followed a specific pattern that would've ended up costing him his head if he strayed from it. So he played it safe and kept away, opting to sit back and let her do all the hard work on her own instead. Not that she was hating it. She'd gone all Snow White, swaying and spinning to the tunes she was humming as she put everything away. It was adorable, a compliment she wouldn't appreciate. She'd link it to her height and start an argument about how her being five-foot-three was not considered short. 

"Not sure what to wear," she drawled, plump lips pursed as she eyed her options. "Kinda torn between the plain jeans and sweater or this dress—"

"Jeans!" he quickly interrupted. God, those jeans...they were sent straight from Heaven. While he was a very big fan of skirts and dresses, especially the ones she wore, and more so when she decided to ditch her underwear for easier access whenever they were in a rather frisky mood, those tight jeans were something else. They showed off her curves the best, her firm butt, thick thighs. Good Lord. He cleared his throat and repeated, "Jeans," a little less enthusiastically this time, but her smirk said it all. She caught his little burst of excitement. 

The little minx put away the dress she had out and retrieved a thong from the wardrobe. A small thing made out of black lace, skimpiest he’d ever seen. That, in no way or shape, was even meant to cover anything.

"Jeans it is," she said, dropping her underwear on the bed next to the outfit she settled on. Rather, the one _he_ settled on. "But I think I'm gonna go wash up real quick first..." Her gaze never left his and the corners of her mouth quirked up into a smirk as she slowly...oh, so very slowly flicked the buttons of her shirt out of place, exposing more and more of her smooth, olive skin as she went along, and he just about managed to stifle the little groan lodged in his throat at that. 

Everyday cotton panties and a bralette in a color that didn't even match, face glowing without a trace of makeup, dark locks tousled, curled up in its natural state. Nothing fancy and she looked like the most stunning person to have ever walked the earth. It still baffled him that she, somehow, decided she would very much like to spend the rest of her life with someone like him. 

Without another word spoken between them, she turned around and walked into the en suite, and he followed along the trail of discarded clothes she left on the way. She was in her birthday suit by the time he locked the door behind him and removed his shirt, prompting him to hurry up and swiftly peel off everything else in record time. Something about that must've amused her, because she was chuckling and shaking her head when he looked back at her. 

"What?" he asked, brows pinched together in slight confusion. If they hadn't been together since their mid-twenties and haven't already seen one another nude, quite literally every day, he would've been a little self-conscious standing butt naked in front of her. Unless he had toilet paper sticking out in a place it shouldn't. 

"Nothing," she dismissed, but her smile only grew wider. "You're just so cute, acting like we haven't done this a hundred times before." 

They did. In fact, it was one of the things they enjoyed together—a warm, relaxing bath after a long day. Sometimes it led to more, sometimes just being in one another's embrace was all they needed. 

"It's been a while," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

"It has," she agreed, twisting the faucet to fill their bath before turning to him with an exaggerated sigh. "All that's missing is two flutes of champagne, or maybe some wine." 

“No chocolate covered strawberries then?” Just the mention of one of her favorite _guilty pleasures_ , as she referred to them, elicited a groan out of her, and he snickered. “Maybe we could stop by a grocery store on the way back and get what we need for them, make some to indulge in later tonight.”

"If we're not stuffed by then," she said. "There's so much I wanna try. The gumbo, jambalaya. Oh, the beignets, Robin!" 

She was like a little child in a candy store, wanting to get her hands on everything. She already told him about all the things she wanted to try, every dish she'd drooled over that she came across on the internet, and the things she listed were no way close to what she had in mind. 

“Good thing we’re here for a week then huh?” His arms circled around her and he pulled her closer, dipping his head to steal a quick kiss. “Now, come on.” He stepped back and carefully into the drawn bath, giving her hand a tug for her to join him. She did, and with a little bit of shuffling and wiggling around, she finally nestled back into him, her body relaxing against his. 

"Feels good," she muttered. 

He hummed in agreement, resting his chin at her shoulder and head against hers as his arms returned around her midsection. "Feels perfect after all the traveling we did." 

It was much deserved. The warm water worked its magic on their sore and aching joints straight away. All that was missing, aside from the alcohol they mentioned moments ago, was some scented candles lit around the inn's humble bathroom and a few drops of essential oils. And to think he would've scoffed at both years ago. Regina's ways were definitely rubbing off on him. 

“I’ll admit,” she began with a light chuckle, “as amazing as this whole thing had been, it’s really draining.”

"Worth every second of it though," he argued, tucking his forefinger under her chin to tilt her head back and look at her, then lean down and peck the tip of her nose, causing it to scrunch up adorably. Just as it did whenever she smiled. "You know I'll swim across all five oceans for you. This, flying from one country to another to tick things off your bucket list, it's nothing compared to what I'll do for you.” 

If he could, if it was even humanly possible, he'd pluck a star out of the night sky for her to keep. He'd seen the way her face lit up at that, how excited she got over a clear sky for the opportunity to stargaze. She was a wild one when they first met and in the beginning that frightened him. He was worried he wouldn't be able to keep up with her and live up to her expectations, the lavish lifestyle she fantasized about, the finest things in life she could want. He was worried his perfect ideas for a date would be too basic, never enough. He wasn't confident he was the right choice for her and he almost made the mistake of letting go because he couldn't have been more wrong about her. Even though she was up to date with the latest fashion trends and loved the lush and the luxurious, and hardly ever turned down an invitation to a party, something as simple as an indoor picnic in the middle of their living room during a blizzard brought the brightest smile to her face. She absolutely loved random strolls around the park, too, more so when she got to pet every dog she was allowed to in sight, and treated every bouquet of flowers he got her like it was the first he'd surprised her with. She would display them in a vase and water them everyday until they were wilted before he stopped with the bouquets and brought home pots of flowers for them to plant and grow instead. Fancy dinners at extravagant restaurants still happened though, they were nice treats on special occasions or simply whenever they felt like a change. In the end, it was all about compromising and making little sacrifices. While he was never a fan of loud parties that stretched long after midnight, he knew it wouldn’t kill him to join her whenever she asked, especially if it made her happy. 

He’d go to the ends of the earth for her happiness. 

Apart from the sound of their breathing and the gentle sloshing of water whenever they moved, it was mostly silence, until the humming began. Regina softly crooning away one of her favorite songs, Barry Manilow's 'Can't Smile Without You'. 

She had an entire list of favorite songs, over a hundred of them that were a combination of all genres, but she always went back to that one. For whatever reason, she would start singing it out of the blue, whether she was dancing around the kitchen in her underwear and one of the many shirts she stole from him while fixing up a quick snack in the middle of the night to satisfy a craving or working on another crocheted creation on the window seat in their bedroom to sell. It was always that song. So often that he found himself singing it, too, sometimes on the way to and back from work and in the shower.

So when she started singing it, he followed suit. The only difference was that she sounded so angelic. Him? Not so much. He always compared himself to a strangled goat but she praised him, always begged him to sing along and to her. The woman mastered the puppy face, how the hell would he deny her? Over time, it just happened. He would join in whenever she sang the songs he was familiar with.

She took his hand in hers and laced their fingers together as she continued. Her voice soft as it echoed the quiet bathroom, his was barely audible, letting her run their little show. He had one hand resting on her torso, pressing her back close to him while the other the guided their joint hands to his mouth, his lips pecking the tip of her every finger, and he'd swear he could hear the smile in her voice at that. 

* * *

Staying at an inn wasn't Robin's first choice. Frankly, not even second or third either, but it was the only place available he could find in such a short notice, and beggars can't be choosers in that situation. He picked a date close to Halloween in a place people associated the supernatural with, what did he expect? Of course all the nice and grand hotels would be fully booked. He was lucky to have found a room in that inn to begin with, lucky he called when he did because the person that called after him wasn't as fortunate according to the old lady that ran the place. 

Miss Lucas as she introduced herself or Granny as she insisted they call her. She was a feisty one, full of energy despite her old age, always ready with witty comments and remarks that were underlined with a little bit of dark humor that had him question his sanity whenever he laughed at them, a sharp tongue but she still offered her guests a bit of that tough love, treating them like they were family rather than strangers that would come and go in a matter of few days. She was warm and welcoming in her own way, just like he heard the people of New Orleans were, and it made staying at an inn a lot more enjoyable than he thought would be. He walked in thinking he would hate it, every second of it, but he sure would miss that place after leaving it. 

First thing on their New Orleans' list was finding a shop that sold dresses and suits, or any costume worthy of a millionaire's masquerade party. There wasn't a dress code, they weren't told they should dress accordingly to a specific timeline or a theme, people were more than welcome to wear anything from the twenties if they wished or ball gowns from the Victorian era, even costumes that were straight out of fictional movies. But, even though it'd been years since he attended any of the parties the Gold's threw, he knew they always went all out and invited the elite, and those people kept it classy. So, classy it had to be. 

"Oh, that place looks interesting," Regina said, gesturing at the little boutique around the corner they were nearing. 

It looked interesting, he'd give her that. A hole in the wall wildly decorated in bright colors and a little splash of silver and gold here and there. There were a handful of mannequins on display right by the store's windows, varying in shapes and sizes, dressed in rather nice attires. It was enticing. It didn't scream ritz and elegance, exactly what they needed for the Gold's masquerade and it wasn't the kind of store Robin would just walk into, but it sparked his curiosity, so he followed Regina in. 

Aside from the little bells that chimed when they stepped in, it was quiet, like time had stopped and everything went still. It was eerie, how different things were inside the store than they were outside, where the streets were packed and bustling with life. The only shoppers were him and Regina, and not a staff in sight. They were about to leave, assuming someone might've accidentally forgot to turn the sign from 'open' to 'closed' when they heard the muffled sound. 

"Oh, customers!"

Somebody exclaimed from the very back of the boutique, and Regina leaned in and whispered to him, "I can't decide if it's a real person or a ghost." 

"You know, me either,"Robin answered, his voice equally as low. 

Nevertheless, they took a few steps toward it and stopped at the sight of a short, old lady, dressed in a white gown with a matching white headscarf and golden earrings about as big as a child's fist, if not bigger. The one thing that didn't match her attire was the dark shades covering her eyes, which he quickly realized its purpose when she stood up with her cane in hand.

"I'm Mama Odie," the old woman introduced herself, a wide beam never leaving her face. "Welcome to my boutique, how can I help y'all?" 

Robin turned to Regina and sighed at the small shrug she gave him. He knew it would be rude of him to point it out—t was just thinking about it—but how could a sightless person help them around and pick the perfect costume? 

"Cat got y'all's tongues?" Mama Odie asked with a chortle, then outstretched her arm and began waving the cane from in front of her to detect and avoid any obstacles her way. "Come, let me help. What're you looking for?" 

"Do it," Regina whispered. 

"What? You do it," Robin hissed. "Why should I do it?" 

"Because you know I can't be mean," she justified. 

"And I can?" That was offensive, he was anything but mean. He broke down in tears over silly commercials, for crying out loud. 

"You're a lawyer, you're used to being...cold," she remarked. 

"I'm a lawyer not a dick, Regina."

"You coming?" Mama Odie called out, glancing back over her shoulder at them before carrying on with her way. 

Despite the fact she was blind, she knew her way around the store almost perfectly. It made sense. It was, after all, her boutique as she stated. Still, it didn't make it any less impressive watching her walk over and dodge everything in her way. He tripped over his own feet, in broad daylight, and he was blessed with the sense of sight. 

"Anything specific you're looking for?" Mama Odie asked. 

"Something fit for a masquerade," Robin answered, doubtful they'd be getting anything close to it but he just couldn't bring himself to stop her. She offered to help and seemed rather happy doing so. "Preferably nothing too wild."

"Oh, it's one of those fancy ones," Mama Odie remarked, almost as a scoff as she felt up the dresses as she went, squishing the material between her fingers. "Is it Robert Gold's?" 

"You know Bobby?" Robin questioned. Thinking about it, who didn't? The man was well-known, had quite the reputation. His face was all over the news at one point. 

“I do,” Mama Odie confirmed. “Nice guy, helped me get back on my feet after the hurricane.” She sighed, her voice thick with emotions, and could he blame her? That was a terrible time for them, people lost their homes, their businesses, their lives. He’d never been stuck in her situation before or anything even remotely similar, he couldn’t imagine how it felt. “Was strugglin’ for sometime after that, everyone was…” she trailed off, and as quickly as she fell down memory lane and sorrowfully told her tale, she stopped and put on a bright smile instead. “But that’s all in the past. Now, you lovebirds should try these on,” she said, pushing a couple options for both of them into Robin’s arms, “and tell me how it goes.”

He’ll admit, even though she couldn't see, both her choices not only fit him well, but looked incredible. The suits she gave him were tailored almost to perfection, simple yet better than most suits he frequently purchased from the high-end stores back home. The fabric was a better quality, too, and wearing it was actually comfortable. It was worth a lot more than the price she offered for them, especially considering they were hand-stitched as she told him, making every piece unique, similar but not identical. 

"You picked one yet?" Mama Odie asked. 

They were sitting next to one another on the small couch positioned right in front of the dressing rooms, both waiting on Regina to try on the dresses picked out for her. 

"Not yet, no," Robin said.

"You don't like 'em?" Mama Odie questioned, sounding genuinely curious rather than offended. 

"Oh no," he quickly dismissed her worries. "It's not that. I do like them, both, actually. I'm just waiting on my fiancée. I wanna match my suit to whichever dress she chooses." 

That made the old woman chuckle. "You must really love her huh? I ain't met a man willingly matching with his partner before."

"With all that I am," he confirmed, a small smile gracing his face at the mere thought of Regina. “I’m the luckiest bastard to have the privilege of loving her and to be loved by her.”

“Son, are you a poet?” Mama Odie chortled. “You’re gonna give Shakespeare a run for his money.”

It was Robin’s turn to laugh. He’d been compared to many things before, Shakespeare wasn’t one of them. “Just speaking from the heart,” he responded. 

It took Regina sometime before the dressing room’s door unlocked with a click and she stepped out, stealing his breath away in the champagne-colored flapper dress she wore, looking like she came straight out of _The Great Gatsby_. If he could describe her in one word and one word alone, it would be stunning. Always, stunning. Yet, as dazzling as she was, she appeared uncomfortable, plucking at the sequins sewn onto the dress and chewing on her bottom lip, both things she did whenever anxiety gripped her or she was overwhelmed with the sense of discomfort. 

He stood and walked over to her, cradling her face in the palm of his hands. “You alright, love?” he whispered, but despite her nod, he knew better. He knew _her_. “Talk to me.”

“I’m okay,” Regina promised, but he knew a lie when he heard it, especially coming out of her mouth. “I’m fine—“

“You two good over there?” Mama Odie asked, reaching for her cane and pushing herself up onto her feet with a grunt. “Which one you wearing, sweets?” 

“The…the twenties-era dress,” Regina answered.

“And you’re not liking it?” Mama Odie pried. 

“No, it’s not that—I just—it’s—“

“You’re allowed to not like something, child,” Mama Odie interrupted her stutters. “I’m a big girl, I won’t be crying over that. Hell, I don’t care, that wasn’t even my doing!” she laughed. 

The old woman's reassurance seemed to ease Regina's worries.Her shoulders weren't as tensed and she stopped her little habits, flattening her hands over the dress instead of picking at it. "I like it. I just...I don't think it looks good on me." 

"Nonsense," Robin scoffed. "Everything looks good on you." 

"You're my fiancé, of course you'll say that," Regina responded with an eye roll. 

"Baby girl," Mama Odie cut in, sauntering toward them, "I can't see but I know you look good in that. Don't ask how, just trust Mama Odie. But you wear what makes you comfortable, because if you're not comfortable wearing it, it won't look good to you no matter how good it actually is."

Robin nodded in agreement to that. It made sense. If she didn't feel good wearing something, she wouldn't think it looked good on her, even if it was breathtaking—which, in her case, she'd be the prettiest even in a potato sack. "Why don't you try the black one then?" he suggested, pushing a raven curl behind her ear. 

Regina shook her head and whispered, “It’s pricy, Robin.” 

"What?" Her statement caught him off guard and he chuckled out of surprise. "Sweetheart, no."

"It is," she insisted. "It isn't worth it for just a night." 

“What we won’t be doing right now is worry about money.” He planted a featherlight kiss to the tip of her nose and flashed her a smile. “And no buts, Regina. I mean it,” he quickly added before she had the chance to argue. “Now, go try the black one on and if you like it, we’re getting it.”

Even though she didn’t appear convinced, she still turned around and walked back into the small dressing room. Another bad habit of hers, worrying over money when he had enough to spare and give them a comfortable life, too. They wouldn’t be traveling from one continent to another in the span of just a few months if he didn’t. Spoiling that woman was a challenge, she would like something and then quickly change her mind about it after learning the price. Luckily, he was a lawyer, good at arguing and convincing people.

It took Regina longer to put on the next dress, but boy, was it worth the wait. 

Not only did she look happier in it, a lot more comfortable and relaxed, stepping out with a beam as she showed it off, but it was ten times prettier than the first one. It was a long, black gown with a flowing skirt, long-sleeves made out of lace, and the same fabric across the upper part of her chest and around her midsection, just barely showing her toned torso beneath it. In other words, it definitely screamed Regina. 

“Wow…” It was the only word Robin could manage, but it was enough to bring some color to her cheeks, tinting them in a light shade of pink as she smiled. 

“I take it that’s the one?” Mama Odie asked, a bright beam across her face. 

He nodded. “It’s the one.” 

“Well then,” Mama Odie exclaimed, banging her cane onto the ground as she stood up again, “let’s go find you two lovebirds matching masks.” 

* * *

In the end, despite Regina's protest over the price tag, they settled on the black gown and Robin went ahead with the three-piece, maroon suit that matched rather than the beige, checkered one. Even though he would have gone with whatever she decided on, he was grateful for what she chose—he was rooting for the maroon suit. The beige one? Not so much. It was nicely put together and formal-looking, but it wasn't his cup of tea, most certainly not with the little bow tie in place of the silk tie. Unpopular opinion, perhaps, but bow ties worked best on toddlers instead of full-grown men. Whoever was an adult that managed to pull it off, well, kudos to them. He never could. 

Unfortunately for them, the boutique didn't have an option to deliver their costumes to the inn they were staying at and carrying the ball gown itself would be tricky on foot. They walked quite the distance. So Regina went ahead of him to hail a cab while he paid. For the things they bought, it wasn't cheap but it wasn't insanely expensive by any means. It was well worth every cent for the quality of the fabrics used and the fact that it was mostly hand stitched. But it was a little ridiculous spending that much money on something both of them would more than likely wear once. Nevertheless, it was done. Well, almost. 

Just as Robin pulled his wallet out to pay, the old woman disappeared again, the tapping of her cane against the wooden floor growing quieter the further back into the store she went. Before he could call out for her though, another woman emerged from the same direction, a middle-aged woman wearing a confused expression on her face as she approached. 

"Can I help you?" she asked.

He offered her a polite smile and gestured at the ball gown, the suit and the two masks still on the counter, waiting to be put away in a bag of sort. "I'm just waiting on Mama Odie so I can pay for these but she just...left. I'm not sure where to," he murmured, more to himself as he looked around the place when the sound of the tapping ceased. 

"Here, let me," the woman offered with a chuckle and then introduced herself, "I'm Eudora, her daughter." 

"Robin," he replied. 

As she double-checked the prices and carefully folded the clothes into their bags, she explained how her mother owned the place but she took over when she began losing her vision with age. Old as Mama Odie was though, she refused to part from the boutique, insisted on coming along every single day and vowed to keep doing so until her very last breath, too. But she often did things she wasn't supposed to be doing, such as switching the sign from 'closed' back to 'open' whenever she was left alone at the store, even for just a few minutes. She was well into her nineties and blind, and people could easily take advantage of that and rob her. Worse, they could hurt her. 

She went on to telling him a little bit about herself, her husband and the little restaurant they owned not far from where the boutique was. About her daughter, Tiana, who took over the place with her own twist when her husband sadly passed away a few years back. He offered his condolences and promised to stop by with his fiancée the next day, or even later that same evening if the place was still open by the time they were energized enough to leave the inn. 

“Where is she, your lady?” Eudora asked, glancing around as she began finalizing their purchase. 

“Just out there,” Robin answered, gesturing outside the wide window in the front of the store at the brunette, seeming frustrated at the lack of available taxis willing to pick them up and drive them to their destination. He could tell by the way her brows were furrowed and her nose slightly scrunched up, the way her lips moved, more than likely uttering a few curses under her breath. “Her name’s Regina.” 

Eudora looked in the direction he waved his hand, squinted for a long moment before gazing at him and nodding with a smile. Just as she tore the invoice for him to take, Mama Odie reemerged and made her way toward them, almost whacking her cane against his shin, missing it by mere inches. 

"Wait a minute! I got you something," she told him, almost breathlessly, as she held out a locket. A beautiful gold locket with a red cardinal on it. "Take this, it's a gift." 

"I can’t—"

"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer, boy," she chided, shoving the locket into his hands. "Now, off you go. Better not keep that sweetheart of yours waiting for long." 

He looked at Eudora for help, who in return did nothing but shrug, as if to tell him there was no way out of it, that arguing with her mother would be useless. He should know, arguing with his own was, too. He gave in with a sigh and flashed both ladies a smile. "It's very lovely, thank you." 

By the time Robin was out of the store with the costumes and the locket he was gifted in hand, Regina was still struggling to get a cab to stop for them. She turned around and stuck her bottom lip out when she saw him, and he lost it, bursting out in laughter. It was so adorably sad, like watching a small puppy struggle to climb up the staircase. 

"I expected more from a native New Yorker," he quipped, earning himself a smack across the bicep at that. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he laughed, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. 

"It's not my fault everyone just decided to ride one today," she grumbled. 

“Oh, for sure, love,” he went along with his best attempt at keeping a straight face. 

He failed, miserably. His smile widened at her obvious annoyance, which only worsened when he managed to find them a taxi at his second attempt. Nothing a promise of some freshly made, warm beignets after dinner couldn’t turn that frown upside down though. 

* * *

New Orleans on a regular day was vibrant and so full of life. New Orleans on Halloween was a whole different story. The streets were twice as crowded, the music was twice as loud, and the people were thrice as creative when it came to their costumes. They were dressed in all sorts of things, from apparels that made no sense but screamed they were more than ready to party to monsters and ghouls, and all the strange supernatural beings that were written in books upon books throughout history. It was incredible. What was just as remarkable was how different things were in the city than they were in the neighborhood the masquerade was held at. Things were a lot tamer in the suburbs, still vibrantly decorated but not as much. It was more elegant, chic than it was fun. 

"I'm having second thoughts," Regina whispered beside him. 

As expected. The mansion was swarming with the well-off and the filthy rich, if he wasn't already used to being around their kind after years of working with them, he would've been intimidated, too. 

"You've got nothing to worry about," Robin soothed, slipping an arm securely around her waist. He tugged her closer to his side and pecked her temple. "You're stunning, people's jaws will be dropping as soon as they see you." 

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "As if." 

It was human nature, he knew that. For her to doubt her beauty the same way he did whenever she called him handsome every so often. Deep down, he knew he looked good, acknowledging it without sounding like a complete narcissist, but sometimes it took a little bit of convincing. The only difference between them was that she truly was breathtaking, features sculpted by God himself. No bad angle was a bad angle, not a picture taken of her was unflattering no matter how unprepared she was in them. She looked too damn good without even trying. 

"If you're absolutely sure, we can turn around and leave, pretend none of this ever happened," he promised, pulling her out of other people's way to the side of the porch, his hands lifting from her hips to cup her face. He wouldn't force her into something she was against, even if it was something she wanted in the first place. People changed their minds, they were entitled to, he wasn't going to force her out of her comfort zone. He, of all people, know how that felt, how horrible it was. "We'll leave here, spend the next couple of days we've got left eating ourselves into a food coma instead before heading home," he suggested, tucking a strand behind her ear. 

She was quiet, but he knew exactly what went on inside of her head, the silent debate she was having with herself, weighing in the pros and cons, and all the reasons she should or shouldn't go with a decision. That was his Regina. 

He moved his forefinger under her chin and gently forced her head up, whispering, “Don’t worry about the costumes.” Her little pout said it all—that was _at least_ one of the things she was thinking about. “And don’t worry about the trip either. We can still make the best of it.” Not attending the masquerade wouldn’t be the end of the world, it wouldn’t make the entire trip a waste of time. There were still dozens of things they could enjoy around the city from museums and private sightseeing tours to cruises and cooking classes, too. “There’s a ghost bus tour…which is probably fully booked for tonight given the occasion but we can try our luck tomorrow,” he suggested, knowing it would pique her interest. It did, the mere mention of the subject earned him a little smile. 

“I…” she trailed off, her shoulders sagging as she sighed. “I wanna tick this off the bucket list,” she decided. 

"You sure?" he asked. 

"I'm sure," she confirmed. 

He offered her a tightlipped smile at that and a kiss on the tip of her nose, then stepped back and, with a brighter beam, adjusted the mask on her face. "Well, suppose it's time to head in and knock their socks off then." 

Inside was everything Robin expected from the Gold's and more. The fancy outdoor decorations were nothing compared to what they walked into. The place was dimly lit, illuminated mostly by the burning slender, white candles dispersed around the house. Fire hazard, for sure, but it wasn't his party. Hell, it wasn't his home to comment on it. Spiderwebs were hanging in a few corners here and there, fine threads that looked too realistic, he would've believed anyone that told him they weren't fake. Pumpkins weren't artificially bright and they weren't carved, they were in all sorts of shapes and sizes scattered around, covered in a little bit of dirt for that rustic look. While elegant, it certainly lived up to the spirit of Halloween. Two steps in and on their left was an open hall, large and decorated just as the rest of the house was. There were people mingling in it, servers with trays of finger food and flutes of champagne to offer, there was also a band of musicians playing away expertly on their instruments in the far corner. On their right was another hall, smaller with the longest dining table he'd ever seen, empty wine glasses aligned with the finest set of china, breathtaking centerpieces made of black vases and dozens of white roses. Not that he expected any less from Robert Gold, but his old friend really went all out. 

Robin spotted the hosts not far ahead but the tug on his hand stopped him in his tracks. He glanced over at Regina by his side and nodded once, urging the question he felt lingering on the tip of her tongue by the look she gave him. 

"I really need to use the bathroom," she whispered, loud enough to be heard amid the noises but not too loud to be heard by everyone else. 

"Want me to come with you?" he asked. 

She shook her head and slipped her hand from his, waving it in the direction of the Gold's. "I'm a big girl, Robin, I can wipe myself. You go and say hi." 

He rolled his eyes but couldn't stifle the chuckle at her statement. So typical of Regina, so unladylike—much to her mother's dismay. "Fine." He tugged her in for one last, quick kiss before she turned around with a laugh and walked away, disappearing somewhere amongst the small crowd. 

Mask on and years since they last crossed one another's paths, Robert still recognized him as soon as he saw him, greeting him by the name with a wide grin and a chuckle, thrusting his bony hand into his for a firm shake. For a man just a couple years shy of being sixty-years-old with a rather twiggy figure, he packed a lot of strength. 

"I'm glad you could make it," Robert said, his Scottish accent as thick as it'd been the day they met. Decades of living in the states couldn't change that, it seemed. 

"Almost didn't," Robin admitted with a snicker then turned his attention to the petite lady beaming next to him. "Belle," he acknowledged, returning the friendly hug she pulled him into. 

“Been a while,” she commented and stepped back with a glare. “What happened to your promise with not being a stranger?” 

"I know, I know..." Robin trailed off sheepishly. "I'm sorry, life's been rather hectic lately." Hectic was an understatement, really, but it wasn't the time nor place to worry about that. It was Halloween, they were in a millionaire's masquerade party, worry should be the last thing on his mind. He should, as Regina would tell him if she was standing right next to him, let loose and live a little. 

So, that was exactly what he planned on doing for the night. 

He caught up with them briefly, talked about his job with Robert and asked Belle about their sons, about Gideon and his little accomplishments, and Neal and how much he'd grown since he last saw him, no longer the skinny, timid teenager who was stuck in an unfortunate situation that tore his family and life apart, he was a man with a family of his own. He then excused himself so they could return to greeting the rest of their guests, too, with one last promise of not disappearing without a goodbye. Not that he would've done that, it was rude merely thinking about it. 

Robin mostly kept to himself, stood in the far corner and out of people's way, just as he did back in college whenever he was invited to parties by friends that abandoned him upon arrival. Aside from the hosts, he knew no one else, he was familiar with some but not enough to hold an interesting conversation or two with them. Luckily for him though, Regina didn't take long and returned, spotting him almost immediately. It was either he stood out for some reason or she was simply _that_ good at finding him. 

It wasn't the first time and something told him that wouldn't be the last. 

"You know I'm not materialistic," Regina started, her voice dropping to a loud whisper as she reached him and continued, "but, Robin, even their bathroom is fancy as fuck!" 

He laughed, "So that's why you took forever in there?" 

“I wasn’t even there for five minutes, stop being dramatic,” she quipped, looping her arm all too eagerly around his, and it was good seeing some of the confidence he was worried she lost moments ago. “So, where to first?” 

"You lead, I follow.”

Just as it'd been from day one. She led and he followed, and life's never been better since.

They stuck together and avoided the people they didn't know, and instead of taking part in the games Robin genuinely didn't expect to take place at a high-end party, they were on the outside looking in—not because they were purposely excluded from the activities, but because it was never something he enjoyed in the first place and he only ever participated whenever Regina did and asked him to join her, and she wasn't feeling it either. So they walked around and explored the areas the guests were permitted to enter and wander in. Every room was beautifully decorated to fit the theme, even the bathrooms and the spacious backyard. In the end, they found themselves upstairs and out on the wide balcony with a few others scattered around them, mostly other couples, it seemed. Each pair minding their own business with their partners, indulging on the appetizers and drinks passed around, or one another. 

"So, does it live up to your expectations?" Robin asked.

Regina leaned her back against the railings and looked around, then turned to him with a nod and a wide smile that stretched across her face. "Exceeds my expectations." 

"Then my job's done here," he chaffed, lightly bumping his shoulder against hers. 

If it was Regina approved, that was all that mattered. She was, after all, the reason they were attending the masquerade. He sure as hell wouldn't have accepted the invitation and attended for any other reason beyond it. Though, if he had to be honest, it wasn't half as bad as he thought it'd be. He was having fun to an extent. Drinks were being poured out of the finest bottles of champagne and passed around in exquisite, crystal flutes and some miniature versions of comfort food, delicate and delicious but he'd never understand the concept behind them being so small—fancy, for sure, but not filling in the slightest—and the music was good, too. 

Speaking of the music...

He turned to Regina with his hand extended toward her and asked, "May I have this dance?" as the upbeat song came to an end and an acoustic version of The Waterboys' 'How Long Will I Love You?' began to play in the background. 

"Right...right now?" she stuttered, her eyes bulging at his request. 

"Yes, right now," he confirmed. "It's a party, love. People tend to, you know, dance at parties." He took her hand in his and pulled her against him. "Don't act all coy on me right now, Regina Mills," he teased, unable to bite back his growing smile at her chuckle, the way her cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. 

She never was. She was always the first one on the dance floor, getting it down like there was no tomorrow. But it'd been years since, their days—rather hers—of dancing around strangers without a care in the world were long gone, they weren't the young twenty-somethings anymore. So her hesitation was expected, and if the second floor was as packed as the ground floor, he wouldn't have had the guts to ask her to a dance either. So he understood, but she didn't let the reality of being somewhere new, surrounded by people they've never seen in their lives before get in the way. She entwined their fingers together in one hand and moved the other to his shoulder, her body relaxing against his as they moved to the mellow music that was played. 

"I forgot how much I liked this song," Regina said, pressing her cheek to his shoulder as they danced. "The original, anyways. I never heard this version before."

"Me either," Robin replied. It was a good one, completely different from the original but just as pleasant. "Probably a cliché but—“

"You think it should be our first dance song, don't you?" she cut him off with one of the cheekiest grins he'd seen from her, and he rolled his eyes. 

To say he was surprised she figured it out and so quickly would be a lie. He saw that coming. They've always been _that_ couple that finished each other's sentences. Always so in sync.

"Well, it's just a thought..." he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders, then added, "I know you've got a few others in mind." He'd seen the list, she ran it by him briefly a while ago but he was too busy caught up in the middle of reviewing his newest case to pay too much attention to it. 

"Doesn't mean we can't add this one to the list, too," she argued. Good point. It wasn't like they settled on one just yet. "Besides, we can still dance to it even if it isn't our first dance. It'll be just as special."

He'd beg to differ, only arguing with Regina was like arguing with a brick wall. The woman was too stubborn for her own good. He refrained from commenting on her statement and dropped the subject by spinning her around, eliciting an excited and a wholehearted laugh from her that brought an even wider grin to his face. Gods, that sound. He'd never grow tired of hearing it and he felt sorry for the people that never got to, deprived of something so exhilarating. Heavens knew just how many times her laughter alone pulled him out of his darkest moments. How a simple giggle turned his sour mood, sweet. 

His arms circled around her waist and he pulled her closer, softly singing along the song in her ear as they swayed. He heard the same cheesy phrase before, sometimes in movies, mostly coming from Regina whenever she loudly read through the many romance novels she had stacked in their bedroom. They were all told differently every time but still delivered the same message—in the presence of their loved ones, everything and everyone else in the room disappeared. Never in a million years did he expect that to be his reality but there he was, braving the chilly breeze as he danced on a balcony in the middle of autumn, under the starry sky, in a house full of people and he saw none. No one else but Regina. 

He spun her again, his smile stretching from ear to ear at the sound of her laughter, the way she threw her head back when she did, then tilted it forward and brushed the tip of her nose oh, so lovingly against his. 

“I love you,” he muttered. 

“You know I love you, too,” she responded. 

“I know.” 

But there was no harm in a little bit of reassurance, and it felt great hearing her say it. It felt as tremendous as it did the first time around, no different than it did then, just as special. 

Sadly, the song came to an end far too quickly for Robin's liking and when they stopped, they realized all eyes were on them. It was awkward, to say the least. They were so enamored with one another, so absorbed in one another, they didn't notice the crowd that gathered. 

Regina cleared her throat and mumbled, "Everyone's staring." 

"They're just in awe of your beauty," Robin responded with a discreet wink. 

Regardless of his never-ending compliments though, being ogled by a mob of strangers seemed to have knocked off some of her confidence. She excused herself and disappeared into the crowd before he could stop her. He wasn't given the chance to follow her straight away either as people he didn't know came to him and, for whatever reason, applauded him over the dance. It was nothing special. Nothing unique, no extraordinary moves that deserved to be praised. It was just a traditional slow dance—so what the hell were they raving so much about? 

"Locksley!" Robert called out and beckoned him, forcing Robin to worm his way over through the people, muttering quiet apologies every time he accidentally bumped into someone. "You've got a minute?"

Robin hesitated. Technically speaking, he had all the time in the world but guilt gnawed at him over the thought of leaving his obviously distressed fiancée on her own, even if just for a few minutes, so he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I've really gotta go. Is it so important that we can't discuss whatever it is over the phone? 

"Well..." Belle started but never got to finished as her husband laid his hand on hers and sighed. 

"No, I suppose it's a matter we can discuss later on if you're in a rush," Robert dismissed. 

"Thank you," Robin replied. He was grateful for their understanding as the thought of leaving Regina alone for a while in a place neither recognized didn't sit well with him. 

He wrapped the petite brunette in a tight hug before bidding his friend farewell with a quick one, too. He thanked them for the invite, expressed his disappointment over cutting his night short and commended the masquerade and their planning abilities—they were always good at that, hosting the most elaborate parties that people still talked about months on, sometimes years--then left to find his very own Cinderella, making a mental note to annoy her over the similarities between her and the character with her sudden and grand exit. 

**Attending a masquerade: check…sorta.**


	4. Ferris Wheel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual disclaimer that I don't own the characters, and that I've not been to the places included in the story. Everything I wrote I found on the internet, so if any of it is wrong, please let me know so I can correct it. And my mistakes included.

On their last day in the city, just like any other tourist, they trekked around the French Quarter and mingled about. The crowd, fortunately, wasn’t as maddening as the evening prior or the days before that. It was still present, more sober and alert with a few handfuls of poor ladies and blokes undeniably fighting off nasty hangovers as the excitement of Halloween gradually wore off. They strolled down Royal Street, eyeballed the marvelous paintings displayed in every corner up the sidewalks, landscapes in oil paint and portraits sketched in charcoal, everything that should’ve been in museums rather than the streets. They walked by musicians and gutsy people that danced to their upbeat melodies, nothing specific or previously rehearsed, they followed their instincts and moved to the rhythm. So much talent underappreciated, undiscovered. 

Though, one of the best parts of New Orleans took place right in the heart of the French Quarter—Jackson Square. There wasn’t that much to it, just a historic park that, like every other park, overflowed with trees in all shapes and sizes, different kinds in different places, some flowerless bushes, old benches and lamp posts, a statue in the exact center of it of the man the park was renamed after and a fountain right in front of the cathedral, too. There were about half a dozen horse carriage lined just outside the gates, a few local arts being sold, a couple card readings that Robin was still indecisive about, some music and other visitors that came from all around, but despite it all, there was something about the place that gave away the sense of tranquility. 

They picked up a few souvenirs to take home with them as they explored the spirited city for the last time, grabbed the usual magnets, snow globes and tee shirts with the city’s name printed on it, and along with all of that, Robin decided to quickly pop into the local jewelry store while Regina was looking around the crafts boutique just a store away. He was a man, jewelries weren’t something that normally caught his eyes but that specific item did as soon as he walked by the shop’s window, making him take two steps back and one step inside. It was a simple but dainty charm bracelet with five ocean creatures made out of sterling silver attached to it—a blue crab, sea turtle, redfish, oyster and a pelican. It was the perfect trinket to take home for many reasons. So he bought it, had it wrapped up as a gift and tucked it safely in his jacket’s side pocket. 

That should’ve been enough, so many souvenirs from one place collected—who even bought that many? Only, neither him nor Regina could resist another one…or a few when they walked past a retail business that specialized in Christmas items. They were both Christmas fanatics, it was their favorite holiday and they often went all out, they couldn’t possibly walk past it like it didn’t exist. They stepped inside and spent a good half an hour looking at all the delicate ornaments, the wreaths, the artificial trees and more. If there wasn’t a weight limit on what they could bring onto the plane with them, they would’ve dropped a fortune on ornaments they might not even use because they wouldn’t fit their usual color schemes. 

There were so many to choose from, the traditional and the unique figurines, some that were silly, others that were rather creepy, and even the slightly inappropriate. In the end though, it came down to the four they mutually agreed on—a spooky-looking Statue of Liberty that Regina rolled her eyes at, a Mardi Gras mask to honor the masquerade goal they crossed off her list, and two slices of toast, one slathered in peanut butter and the other, chocolate. But even with the maximum amount they set for themselves reached, Robin lingered in front of one section for what felt like an eternity. 

“You should get it,” Regina said, nodding at the little ballerina figurine in her yellow tutu that he’d been eyeing. “It’s kinda cute.” 

“Yeah?” Robin chuckled. He shifted the basket he was carrying from one hand to the other and reached for it, carefully tracing his thumb along it. “It is cute.” 

“Then get it,” she encouraged. “What’s one more? It’s not like it weighs a crap ton.” 

That was a valid point. It was just an ornament, small enough to fit inside the palm of his hand—how much could it possibly weigh? Another one couldn’t hurt, so he did, and to avoid any other temptations, they beelined their way to the cash register, paid and left, knowing they could easily get sucked back in for more at a mere glance. 

Their next and second to last stop in New Orleans was back to the inn, where they could have a quick bite of whatever divine, home-cooked meal Granny made to, in her own words, ensure her guests got the authentic taste of Louisiana and the soulful southern food it offered, and then take advantage of the bathtub one last time before having to pack up some of their belongings to avoid accidentally leaving anything behind doing it all at once and in a hurry just hours before their flight, as they’d done before, forgetting things from chargers to even a new pair of shoes. It was mostly him though, Regina was the organized one between them, always had been. 

“Sit back, relax. I’ll see what feast Miss Lucas has cooked up today,” Robin said as he lowered their newly purchased non-essentials on the floor next to the bed. “Want anything else while I’m down there?” 

“Is foot rub an option?” Regina asked, removing her shoes with a wince. 

“Foot rub’s an option after lunch,” he promised with a chuckle.

With a quick peck to her forehead, he walked out and, as he closed the door behind him, heard her yelling out her request for something sweet, drawing a chortle out of him. That woman and her undying love for everything sugary–how she had the perfect set of teeth with hardly any cavities was beyond him. She had the diet of a child, an adventurous one who willingly tried everything at least once, but a child nonetheless. 

He walked down the old, creaky staircase, dragging his hand along the wooden handrail as he did. It was unhygienic, he knew. It wasn't that he doubted Granny Lucas or the staff she hired on their ability to keep the place clean and tidy, because it was, but it was also an inn—dozens of guests walked in and out on the daily and touched it, too. Heavens only knew where their hands had been all day. He washed his, but it didn't mean everybody else he came across did as well. Still, it was a childhood habit he couldn't seem to break from, an itch forcing him to grab onto the railings for the hell of it.

The aroma of whatever Granny Lucas had brewing in her kitchen filled his nostrils as soon as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, leaving him salivating at the mere thought of what lunch could be. Everything she served them up to that moment was scrumptious and, so long as it wasn’t an alligator, he’d dig right in, no questions asked–but the line had to be drawn somewhere. 

The door leading into the kitchen was ajar but he knocked to get her attention anyway and stepped inside at her permission. His stomach rumbled as the mouth-watering scent grew stronger–if he wasn’t already starving, seeing her stir the massive pot of thick, amber goodness would’ve done the job within seconds. “Gumbo?” Robin asked. 

Granny Lucas nodded. “Sure is.” She pulled open the second drawer to her right and plucked a tablespoon out of the tray, then scooped some of the steaming soup into it and held the silverware out for him to take. “Try it,” she said, “tell me if it’s got enough salt.” 

“No alligators?” he enquired half-jokingly. 

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!” she laughed and then added, “No, no gators. Just chicken, sausage and some good ol’ shrimps.”

That wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Chicken? Delicious. Sausages? Even better, and while shrimps would never be his first choice, he still ate them whenever they were offered to him. 

He took the tablespoon by the handle and gently blew on the soup a couple of times before doing as he was told and trying it. It was an instant burst of flavors in his mouth, his taste buds danced at the variety of spices he could taste but couldn’t pinpoint. It wasn’t at all like an Irish stew as he expected, not even similar to any sort of curry he had before. “This is incredible,” he praised, stepping to the sink to rinse the spoon and put aside. “I don’t think it needs any more salt.” It was a personal preference though. Gumbo was an entirely different dish that he never had before. The salt could be perfect to him but lacking to others who grew up eating it regularly. 

Granny Lucas confirmed it though when she had a taste of it herself. “I think you’re right,” she said. “First time having gumbo?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “But I’ve been trying out a lot of other local delicacies for the past week.” 

“Any favorites?” she asked. 

Frankly, no. It’d been a while since he had a favorite dish. There was only what he liked and what he didn’t, and a list of top five dishes he loved but still didn’t consider them his favorites. He enjoyed them but didn’t get excited over them. “Not really,” he droned. “This might be a cliché but I really enjoyed the jambalaya, and that red beans and rice dish you made the other day.” 

“One of my specialities,” she responded proudly. “Did you get the chance to try the crawfish? Not the easiest to get around this time.” 

Robin shook his head. "I'm not the biggest fan of seafood," he admitted. "I enjoy fish, don't really mind shrimps, and occasionally feel like having calamari but that's about it. It’s right up my fiancée’s alley though.“

“Oh yeah?” Granny Lucas switched the burner off and shifted her attention to him. “What else does she like?”

“God…” Robin tittered, shaking his head. “What _doesn’t_ she like?”

His comment pulled a howl out of the old woman, and he followed suit. It was the truth—Regina was a foodie. While she enjoyed everything life had to offer, food was right at the very top. Grocery shopping was a task to most, including himself, but to Regina it was a delight. She found joy in it, took her time going down one aisle to the next, even the ones they had no business walking by, much like a kid in a toy store insisting on playing with every toy, never in a hurry. Cooking with her was just as much of an adventure, too. Love was her secret ingredient. She had cookbooks and recipes passed down to her from generations prior but rarely ever followed the exact measurements because, to her, nothing compared to a home-cooked meal made with love. To her, everything tasted better by following one’s heart and gut-feeling rather than written recipes word-for-word. She was right–but then again, when wasn’t she?

It wasn’t his job, she told him so and he knew it–he was a guest–but his mother taught him better than to turn his back on anyone or wait until asked to offer a helping hand. Not that he minded. He enjoyed it because he got to pass his time raving about Regina and he always talked about her to anyone willing to listen. Obnoxious, for sure, but–God, he was so madly in love with that woman and every little thing she did, it was impossible not to.

After a long and more than likely annoying minutes of bothering her with stories about his lady, Robin went ahead as Granny Lucas told him and scooped some gumbo and rice, pilling a hearty portion for him and Regina on one plate and in another separate plate, some salad. He thanked her, apologized profusely for wasting her time–to which she dismissed–and carried the tray up to the room they were renting. 

He was greeted by Regina sprawled out on her back with her head hanging off the bed, facing him with a little pout. “What’re you doing?” he chuckled, walked in, and set the food down on the table by the balcony. Why not have lunch with a bit of a view, too? 

“What took you too long?” she whined, “I almost starved to death!” 

“Oh, I’m sure,” he played along with a smirk tugging at his lips. If she wasn’t so horrible at memorizing things and keeping a straight face in serious situations, she would’ve made it big in Hollywood with how dramatic she tended to be at times. He pulled out a chair when she got up and leaned over to steal a kiss before she sat down. “Authentic gumbo. It’s delicious.” 

“It smells delicious,” she said, shuffling the chair closer to the table. “Seriously though, what took you so long?” 

“I was helping Granny Lucas clean up,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders as if it was completely normal for a guest to rinse away dishes at a place they were vacationing at. To him, helping anyone was normal though. He grabbed a spoon, mixed a bit of the broth with a small serving of the rice, then scooped some and held it up to her mouth. “Careful, it’s still hot.” 

Regina blew on it a few times before taking the first bite, instantly moaning in appreciation. It’d be a lie if he claimed he didn’t see that coming. He did and laughed about it, too. 

"I hope it doesn't start raining soon," he said, gazing up toward the gloomy skies with a sigh. 

Their day started with the perfect weather, warm enough for them to ditch the additional layer of a coat without the risk of freezing their limbs off. There were some clouds a few and far between, not nearly enough to fill up the blue sky though or for anyone to predict a possible rainstorm just a few hours later. It was all very sudden, the wind picked up and replaced the vagrant, white puffs with a blanket of gray billows. Any other time, neither of them would have minded. Rainy days were some of their favorite days. But they had one last stop to get to before leaving New Orleans that required being outdoors—the rain would make it impossible to go through with it. 

“Yeah,” Regina agreed with a heavy exhale and then lifted another spoonful into her mouth. “But it won’t be the end of the world if it doesn’t happen.” 

“But–”

"No buts," she cut him off with a laugh and waved her hand dismissively. She'd always been so expressive with her hands, every other word followed by a gesture. They often joked about the possibility of her being part Italian on her mother's side, but her grandmother—bless her soul—died and took with her the secret that was her summer fling's identity to the grave. “It’s just a wall, Robin, I think I’ll be fine if we don’t get to see it in person. It’s not even on my bucket list!” 

It was a wall and there were thousands more of it around the globe, and it wasn’t technically a goal they were aiming to cross off the list–it wasn’t even on the list to begin with. But it had to be, it was the whole reason the list existed in the first place. The _Before I Die wall_ was the inspiration behind it, and it originated right there in New Orleans. They couldn’t leave without writing their own dreams on it. 

Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other plans in mind.

Thunder boomed and the sudden, heavy rain poured, drawing a frustrated huff out of Robin and a chuckle from Regina. “Rain’s a blessing,” she reminded, wearing the brightest smile on her face. She shook her head and held a spoonful of rice up to his mouth. “Now, eat up. I know for a fact Granny Lucas has something sweet downstairs with our names on it for dessert.” 

They polished off the main course over small conversations about the masquerade and their next step going forward, the peaceful sound and refreshing smell of the rain, and the soothing melodies of the saxophone playing down the street. If it wasn’t for the praline bundt cake Granny Lucas baked, they would’ve gone for a second serving of the gumbo. It was tempting, not quite as tempting as the thought of a warm slice of cake dripping with a salted caramel sauce and a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream slowly melting and soaking into it. 

Even with the rain showing absolutely no sign of stopping, Robin still held onto the hope that they’d be able to visit the wall all through the rest ofthe day and night, and the next morning, too. Alas, it continued up to the moment they boarded the plane to their next destination. 

Hopefully, it’d be warm and sunny in the Golden State.

* * *

It was such an odd feeling returning to the same state they left behind them many years ago. The place where they met and fell in love, where all their firsts happened—first date, first kiss, first apartment they moved into together. They walked down familiar streets that didn’t look all that familiar anymore, passed by shops that weren’t there a decade ago, and empty sites in places of buildings that once were. It was bittersweet and nostalgic, but it felt good to be back. It was great driving across the Golden Gate Bridge and seeing the classic cable cars again, and he never thought the day would come where he’d say it but he missed Filbert Street despite how stressful driving up and down those hilly roads was, how anxious it left him in fear of losing control of the vehicle and crashing. It never happened, though the worry was always there. He missed it all, and if they weren’t on such a tight schedule they would’ve stay an entire week, maybe two, and reminisce all about their sweet early days of dating by revisiting all of their favorite places. Sadly, they returned to their old home as visitors swiftly passing by, temporary nomads chasing after their next thrill with no intention of lingering in one place. But they had a day and a half to spend in San Francisco before leaving for Santa Monica for the day, and the another two upon returning—that ought to be enough. 

“Remember the last time we were here?” Regina asked, her back turned to him as she stood gazing out of the window. 

“Oh, I’ll never forget,” Robin chuckled. He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin resting comfortably on her shoulder as he looked ahead in the same direction. The Golden Gate Bridge was visible from where they were staying and that alone was quite the sight to marvel in, but to be able to see it so clearly with the sun setting was something out a painting only Albert Bierstadt could’ve painted. Their old place didn’t offer a view half as beautiful. They were only in their mid-twenties, still paying back their student loans. They were scraping by to survive, so they took whatever they could afford. “We really took advantage of every surface huh?” 

“We did,” she confirmed with a chuckle. 

It’d been years since and he still remembered the day like it was yesterday. Christmas morning and an empty apartment, save for the few, small boxes labeled accordingly to be donated, from old books they lost interest in over the years, others they accidentally picked up duplicates of, and clothes that were long forgotten in the back of the closet, and other items in a too good of a condition to be thrown away when others could easily enjoy and appreciate having. They traded a home-cooked Christmas dinner for a Chinese takeout, and drank the night away out of a shared bottle of Pinot Noir, a farewell gift given to them by their friends. They talked about New York City and their plans going forward after settling into their new home. Being a native New Yorker, Regina walked him through the things he should and shouldn’t do, and briefed him on what to expect and how to navigate his way through on the daily. She raved about the city’s delicacies and listed off all of her favorite things and where to find them. Which corner had the superior slice of pizza and what store served her go-to Italian ice on a warm, summer day, and which bakery did the best Black and White Cookies—something that quickly became his favorite. 

Talks of food became stories from her youth, of the silly things she did as a wild child. How her cheeky behavior led to her being not only her parents’ daughter, but the neighborhood’s baby, too. Her name was on the tip of everyone’s tongue, for the good reasons and the bad ones. One thing for certain though, was how they all dotted on her like she was their own. Local businesses recognized her. Mitchell Herman’s repair shop fixed up her bicycle every time she broke it every other week at no cost, and old man Geppetto snuck her freshly made cannoli from his bakery whenever she stopped by. The people next door and the families down the streets celebrated her graduation with her and bid her farewell when she left for college, sent her off with a stack of letters and envelopes stuffed with a few bucks to help her along the way. They were her second, big family, and he was lucky to have met them. 

“What do you say we see if that place is still around?” Robin suggested. 

“What place?” Regina asked, tilting her head back to look at him with her brows pinched together. “The Chinese place near our old apartment?” 

He hummed in confirmation and planted a few kisses along the curve of her neck. “We can get our favorites and a bottle of red, spend our first night back in the city like we did our last.” Slowly, he began swaying with her. No symphonies, not a single melody. Nothing but the honking of the passing cars and birds singing their last song of the day outside of their window. Music would’ve been nice, but reaching for his phone and going through the long list of songs would take a while and ruin the spontaneous moment. So, he let it be and focused on her, the way she teased her bottom lip between her teeth, a telltale sign of her consideration. “So?” 

“So…you want us to ditch this glorious bed and sleep on the floor, all rolled up in some bedsheets?” she emphasized. 

“Excuse me?” he scoffed, turning her around to look at him, and her face supported the biggest beam, as if she knew exactly what was coming. Perhaps so. She knew him better than he knew himself. “I was sleeping on the floor, you were laying on top of me. Don’t act like you were the one who had to suffer through a backache the entire flight to New York.” 

“You’re not the comfiest,” she shot back, her grin widening. 

“Oh, please,” he huffed out. “You were so deep in your sleep you could’ve easily slept through an earthquake, and you have the nerve to say I wasn’t comfy. I’m the best human pillow you could ever have and you know it.” 

She flat out denied it though, shaking her head with a smothered chuckle that quickly turned into a loud shriek when his fingers found her sides. She was ticklish. No more than the mention of it was enough to have her convulse. It was funny, really, and her fruitless threats of not-so-accidentally kicking him in the face or inability to control her bladder for long never fazed him. He tested her limits as she begged and pleaded for him to stop until she threw in the towel by finally agreeing with him. He savored every victorious moment–it wasn’t everyday that he got to win an argument or a discussion with her, even one as silly as a quibble over whether he was a comfortable human pillow or not. 

“Say it,” Robin demanded, his tone stern but a broad grin was plastered across his face. “Say it or I won’t stop.” 

“Stop,” Regina pleaded in-between cackles. “Robin, please!” 

He did, only briefly. He reached for her arms and held them to either side of her head, a gentle but firm grip around her wrists, keeping her pinned against the mattress. “So, do you take back what you said?” 

Her smile grew with every breath she took to fill in her lungs, and after a moment of silent deliberation, she shook her head and muttered, “No.” 

Her answer was all it took from him to start again, evoking a loud, hearty laugh from her, followed by a string of pleas and promises he knew she’d break as soon as his fingers stopped their attack on her sides. She threw her head back and squirmed, her hands helplessly swatting at his to no avail. He had no intention of stopping, not until she gave in. 

“Say it,” he repeated. 

“Okay, okay! You win, I’m sorry,” she blurted out with a chuckle. He stopped, and she laid heaving, her chest rising and falling with every deep and desperate breath she drew in. “You’re the best human pillow anyone could ever ask for. There, happy?”

“Very,” he confirmed, grinning. “Now, was that too hard to do?” At her firm nod, he chuckled, then dipped low enough to reward her surrender with a playful peck to the tip of her nose without crushing her with his weight. She scrunched up her nose, and he got off her and onto the bed. “I bet it was really difficult for Her Highness to admit defeat.” 

“Torturous,” she played along, a rather dramatic sigh escaping past her lips as she turned onto her side and draped a leg over his torso, as she often did to get as physically close to him as possible. 

He loved her—more than all the stars in the universe, truly, and as deep as the deepest point in the ocean stretched, however, it was goddamn annoying at times. The way she clung to him like a koala clinging to a tree left him feeling trapped. But she was too content and too damn precious for him to do anything other than suck it up and let her be, no matter how sweltering and suffocating it tended to become during the warmer weather. 

“So—” he prompted, brushing his lips over her head when her arms tightened slightly around him, his own pulling her closer, “—barbecue pork fried rice and sesame chicken?” 

“Don’t forget the spring rolls,” she reminded and then added, “they’re the best.” 

They were. Fingers crossed time kept them the same. Hardly anything was anymore. Everything once familiar was unrecognizable. Life had to keep going and to move forward, change was in order. He knew that. Nevertheless, it was a hard pill to swallow because change was tough, especially on him. He knew people that walked through them with ease, all the while the slightest alternations stressed him to the point of being forced to endure traumatizing anxiety attacks. It took him well over a year to mentally prepare himself to study abroad. A year of listing all the reasons why he _should_ do it to convince himself that everything would be alright. It took a long pep talk between him and himself to stop him from turning back and heading home rather than getting on that plane to California—and thank God he did. He couldn’t imagine how his life would’ve turned out to be had he succumbed to his fears of breaking his norm. 

Fortunately, it got significantly better over the years and he owed it all to Regina. There was something about her very existence that reined back his distress and brought him peace. He often refrained from voicing his concerns and yet, she, somehow, knew exactly what worried him and when, and instead of prodding him to speak about it, she was just…there. No special words of encouragement or consultation uttered, nothing but her presence and a touch as simple as having her gently graze her fingernails over the back of his head. Something he appreciated–opening up to people, no matter how close he was with them, was difficult. 

Still, none of that made change easier, from a sentimental point of view, anyway. 

After looking up if the restaurant was still around and getting their number off their newly created website, dinner was placed for a pickup. The comforter was pulled off the bed and spread out on the balcony floor, the lights in the suite were dimmed to the lowest, allowing for a romantic ambience set by the illumination of the streetlights and the buildings around them, and the bright beam of November’s moon. Not identical to their last night in the city but it was as close as they’d get. 

Still cladded in the same clothes they got off the plane in, they opted to travel on foot rather than get a taxi to their destination with the purpose of, quite literally, walking down memory lane. The crisp, autumn breeze made for a pleasant stroll as they admired the new and pointed out the old. It was a little strange and intriguing at the same time, all those modern twists added to the city. The buildings that stood in places Robin didn’t recall them being, the fresh graffiti art expertly sprayed on every wall they were passing by. There were those and then the others that were frozen in time. For instance, the convenience store they popped into late at night for a quick pre-midnight snack in their pajamas and many of the local art galleries Regina dragged him to. They passed by some of the infamous alleyways they used to sneak off into as well, where they stole steamy kisses after one too many drinks at the nearby pub they frequented because having to wait until they were home felt impossible. One of those untouched places was the coffee shop they went to one their first date. It was still there, still bustling with customers even as it neared their closing time. 

“How about we stop by tomorrow?” Robin asked. “For old times’ sake.” 

Shrugging her shoulders, Regina responded, “I don’t see why not, we’ve got a lot of time to kill.” She stopped a few feet away from the establishment, and he followed suit, pausing with worry on his face until she spoke again, “Do you think they still have that chocolate cake on the menu?” 

He chuckled, bobbing his shoulders. “I don’t know, maybe.” 

For someone who was so sure she wouldn’t like the cake before it was even brought out to their table, she certainly made it hard for him to believe her claims when she ate a little more than half of the slice they shared, and often went back to the coffee shop just for another whenever her monthly cravings for something chocolatey hit. 

He remembered that day in all its details, their first date. It was a Friday evening in the middle of November’s nippy weather, almost three months after he asked her out. It took them that long due to school and work, and while he was more than happy to plan his days around her schedule, even if it meant getting through long and tiring days with no more than two hours of sleep, she was the one who came off as indecisive, hesitant in their conversations whenever the topic was brought up. It worried him that she might’ve initially agreed out of sheer pressure. Happy as he was over it, the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. She seemed fine back then though, agreeing without a stutter or a second thought when he approached her on the beach that day and asked if she’d like to have dinner sometime after a brief chat. Still, he dropped it and decided it was for the best to stop texting her after their last conversation came to an end, just in case that was what she wanted. 

Apparently not. 

While he expected nothing but radio silence on her part, she surprised him by sending him a late-night text on the second day of keeping his distance, starting with the usual pleasantries by asking about his day and how he’d been before moving onto the next topic. She brought up his sudden disappearance, and he dismissed his absence on school assignments that ate up a lot of his time. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth either. Luckily, she bought it—if not, she didn’t press further—and proceeded with a question he never saw coming. 

_“So...how does this Friday sound?”_

And, well, the rest was history. 

“I wonder if they’re still out of that strawberry swirl cheesecake,” Regina grumbled, drawing a chortle out of him at the unexpected statement. 

That was her reaction that evening, too. Her first choice was that cheesecake. Unfortunately for her, the last slice was purchased just moments before they were seated, resulting in her so stubbornly insisting she wouldn’t enjoy the chocolate cake he ordered and glowered up to the moment she actually tried it. Her grumpiness crumbling with every bite she took. 

“Probably,” Robin replied, pulling her closer to his side when she looped her arm around his as they began walking again. 

“I regret never getting to try it,” she grouched. “It’s all your fault.” 

“ _My_ fault?” he exclaimed in shock, his eyes widening at the accusation. “How’s it my fault?” 

“You introduced me to that stupid cake,” she huffed out, and he laughed. 

“But did I force you to get it every time you did?” 

“No...” 

“So how is it my fault then?” 

“Because it is,” she insisted.

“You just don’t wanna admit that I was right,” he said as the realization finally set in after many years. Her silence verified it, but he had to hear it. “I’m right, aren’t I?” 

“Answering you would mean I’m agreeing with you, therefore, no comment,” she responded, curling her lips inward in an attempt to stop the smile from forming on her face, and he bursted into laughter. 

He was right, whether or not she was willing to say it out loud. He told her she would love that chocolate cake, and she did.

They picked up their food with an extra fortune cookie and left behind a generous tip as a thank you for their swift service and friendliness. The place changed drastically, as expected. It was bigger and modernized. Long gone were the three wooden tables and the wobbly chairs that came with them, and the large, digital menu board by the counter. The chipped, white walls were painted over in carmine, and the paper lanterns were replaced by sturdier ones that hung from the wooden ceiling, providing a warm, comforting glow to the place. It was hardly the same as it was over a decade ago but, oddly enough, the smellwas just as Robin remembered it being. The same mouth-watering aroma of the authentic and Americanized dishes, both packed with flavor, which was exactly why they opted for a cab ride back rather than walking the distance to the hotel–he was too excited to dig in and would rather not have their dinner cold. It also gave their aching joints a break. 

They traded a bottle of red for a white, and ate their meal beneath the moonlight, huddled up under a shared blanket to keep them nice and snug whenever the brisk breeze blew. Save for some minor changes that included cuddling on laid-out bedsheets at a fancy hotel’s balcony rather than the middle of an empty, one-bedroom apartment with Regina’s never-ending collection of scented candles lit around them, it almost felt the same as it did all those years ago. 

_Almost._

* * *

When morning rolled around, they were up and dressed, and out of the door by eight. No sane person would abandon a warm, comfy bed so early, and on a vacation, no less. But then again, they weren’t sane in the slightest for doing it all for a slice of cheesecake. As the saying went, “the early bird catches the worm.” 

Sadly, setting the alarm as a reminder for them to be there just as the coffee shop’s door opened didn’t secure them a slice, because there weren’t any to give away to begin with. Just as luck would have it, they were missing a few ingredients that were yet to arrive from their supplier, forcing them to temporarily remove the dessert from their menu until further notice. 

Their last chance proved to be as fruitless as the ones before it. 

Luckily for Robin, he knew exactly how to put a smile on Regina’s face in a way that didn’t include any cream cheese. It did, however, require some patience. The place he had in mind wouldn’t be welcoming any guests for a few more hours. So, to pass time quicker, they purchased their breakfast and drinks of choice, and made their way to Kirby Cove beach, another destination they frequented back when they lived in the city. For the most part, it remained untouched. It was a beach, after all, just how much would time have changed it? But like everything else in life, it wasn’t exactly the same either. 

“The swing’s gone,” Regina said, her bottom lip sticking out slightly in a pout. “I loved that swing.” 

It was silly. It was a swing he never even sat on, never considered it and wouldn’t have ever, but seeing it gone didn’t feel right. “Yeah...” His voice barely above a whisper but it didn’t hide his disappointment, and he wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t shake off the ridiculous feeling of being let down by an object that he paid no mind to when it was there. 

Rather than dwelling on it, he led them away and further down the beach, closer by the water in search of the perfect spot to sit on and enjoy their breakfast. Maybe it was the cold or the early hour that left the place looking a little bare with very few people walking around, but it was perfect. The lesser people, the better. 

The ocean wasn’t his thing, the deep waters scared the living daylight out of him, but the beach was something he could handle. The tranquility of the sound of the waves combined with the seagulls was calming, and aside from Regina’s laugh and the rain, it was one of his favorite sounds. 

“Do you miss being here?” Regina asked. 

“I miss... the simpler times,” Robin responded. 

“Simpler times?” 

“Yeah, just how things used to be before we moved to New York. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret the move,” he quickly clarified. “I don’t wish we never did. I just miss some things.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like... I don’t know, a lot of things.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just... I don’t really wanna talk about it, Regina.” 

“Okay, okay.” She held her hands up in surrender. “We don’t have to talk about it.” 

“I’m not ready,” he said pleadingly, in hopes of dropping the subject. It was one he avoided for years, one he tiptoed around but never touched. “I’m not ready.” 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, embracing him, and he allowed himself to seek comfort for once rather than provide it. “We don’t have to talk about it.” 

It felt like forever had passed before the dread that filled him went away, and as if the conversation never took place, they began conversing about the goals they already crossed off the bucket list and what was left—barely any. The moment of dismay was nothing but a distant memory as they engaged in their usual lighthearted discussions that included the occasional jabs at one another. Before they knew it, their breakfast was eaten and drinks were drained, the garbage was collected and thrown away. With still some more time to kill, they discarded their shoes and walked along the shore. Living in the city with a demanding job that hardly gave him enough time to scratch his head, let alone, days off, truly made him appreciate the feeling of the wet sand sneaking in between his toes and the cold water that washed it away. 

* * *

Pier 39—the place they went to on their third and first _real_ date. 

The place was bigger than Robin remembered it being, livelier, no doubt, and it definitely had much more attractions than it did back then. Mazes and rides, new carts and outdoor kiosks with fun activities for the young and old. As great as all that was though, nothing could compare to the double-decker carousel. Regina’s gasp upon seeing it proved that much. They had the most fun on it, even though they were, supposedly, mature adults in their early-twenties at the time, going back to it again and again. They almost got in trouble for continuously getting up to switch seats whenever they were facing away from the operator, alternating between the horses and the carriages, and the other creatures built into the ride, sometimes sneaking onto the second level, too. Their favorite was the spinning cup, or whatever it was. They spun it and watched the world twirl around them, their surroundings and the bright lights nothing but a blur. It was where they had their first kiss, too, just as the ride came to a halt. 

With all their dates combined, that one was the best. 

“I can’t believe it’s still here!” Regina exclaimed. Had she not been as excited as she was, he would’ve pointed out the fact that it’d been there for the past century, it was unlikely it would disappear over the span of a decade. But anything was possible. 

Everything he least expected has happened. 

“Makes up for not getting that cheesecake?” he inquired, chuckling, and she responded with a shrug but her smile said it all. It definitely made up for not getting that damned cheesecake. “Well, where to first, Your Majesty?” 

"I don’t know about you but the mirror maze sounds kinda intriguing.” 

He groaned at that. Of all the things available she had to go with that one? He hated them. He’d only been to one before as a young boy and was too traumatized to ever do it again. “Really?” 

“Oh, stop acting like a little baby.” She looped her arm around his and gave his cheek a pinch, eliciting another groan out of him. “We’ll go in together.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

But as soon as the tickets were purchased and they were making their way to the entrance, it dawned on him. If Regina Mills did something so often, it was making up white lies. “You crossed your fingers, didn’t you?” 

“I sure did!” 

Like the stealthy person she was, she slipped out of his grip and took off running into the maze ahead of him, the sound of her giggles echoing through as he did his best to chase after her without bumping straight into a mirror. 

God, did he mention just how much he _loathed_ mirror mazes? 

The place was mostly dark, as mirror mazes often were, and the paths were barely visible, marginally lit by the neon lights coming from within the archways and columns that supported them up. Every step he took was a careful one, his arms outstretched in front of him to detect and avoid any obstacles. He was struggling to walk whereas Regina was nowhere to be found, nothing but the sound of her voice calling out for him in a singsong tone. 

It was all fun and games, and for a little while there, Robin was enjoying it. He searched for her, laughed when he turned the wrong corner and slammed right into the mirrors. Until her voice grew fainter and whenever he reached for her, his fingers brushed over the cold surface of her reflection instead. The closer he thought he was getting to her, the farther away she seemed to be drifting. 

“Regina!” he yelled out. “Alright, fine. You win, I am a coward,” he admitted. “Can we leave now?” 

“Oh, come on,” came her voice from a distance, and he followed it only for her reflection to disappear from the mirrors aligned. “We just got here.” 

Perhaps so, but every minute he spent in the atrocious place was harrowing. He felt himself suffocating. His breathing quick and shallow, his head spinning, his eyes darting around, searching. It was a panic attack on the horizon, he recognized it—he went through it countless times before. 

“Regina!” he tried again, his voice wavering. It wasn’t the place itself that had him spiraling, it was the unsettling feeling that washed over him at his inability to find her, to _touch_ her. “Regina, please,” he croaked desperately. His eyes squeezed shut and his right hand reached for the chain around his neck, clutching it in an attempt to stop the fear that gnawed at him. 

Gentle arms enveloped around him, and it stopped. A hushed voice comforted him, softly whispering reassurances he badly needed to hear, “It’s okay, you’re alright. I’m right here.” 

“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded, his own arms securing around her figure in a grip a tad too tight, his eyes still shut as he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Please don’t leave me.” 

It was pathetic; a grown man on the verge of tears in the middle of a mirror maze, all because he couldn’t find her. People would talk, strangers would make fun of him—even little children lost their parents and braved through it with giggles. In that moment though, he truly didn’t care about it all. He avoided the judgmental stares and blocked out the murmurs as they found their way out and put that grim moment behind them. 

“How about we go get something to eat?” Regina proposed, her hand soothingly rubbing across his collarbone to his shoulder, and it helped, tremendously. “There’s a platter of fish and chips with your name on it.” 

A laugh rose out of him and he rolled his eyes. “Just because I’m British it doesn’t mean I’d automatically go for some fish and chips.” 

She hummed doubtfully. “If you say so.” 

"I won’t,” he insisted. “I might be in the mood for some Italian or—” he waved his hand in the direction of the hot dog stand—“maybe a hot dog.” 

“A hot dog?” she repeated, brows rising in question. “And since when do you like hot dogs?” 

“Since, well, I don’t know. I never hated them,” he clarified. “I just never saw the appeal of consuming a boiled mush of ground up meat and Heavens know what else.” 

“Well, when you put it that way…” she grumbled. 

With a chuckle, he lifted their joint hands and dropped a featherlight kiss to her knuckles as they continued on their merry way to find something to satisfy their seemingly bottomless pit. 

In the end, he stayed true to his words and went for a light munch rather than a hearty meal, starting with some churros and then a plain pretzel, which he greatly underestimated the size of. Nevertheless, it was demolished as they walked around the pier and just in time for a quick visit to the aquarium while it was still open and not as crowded—it was one of Regina’s favorite spots.

She _oohed_ and _aahed_ as soon as they set foot inside, her eyes wide in awe as if she’d never been to such place a dozen times before. He had to give it to her though, they’ve upgraded it some and, while ocean life never interested him in the past, it was mesmerizing walking into a bloom of jellyfish, oodles of transparent, glowing creatures aimlessly floating around them. 

“Robin, look!” 

He did without hesitation, turning around to where she was staring at only to come face-to-face with one of the few things in life that terrorized him—fucking sharks. 

Out of instinct, he jumped back and gasped, his eyes bulging in horror. “Bloody hell, Regina. Jesus Christ, _fuck_.” 

“Excuse me!” scolded the passerby he just barely avoided bumping into—a woman around the same age range as him, scowling as she gathered the group of children with her close. “There are kids around, mind your language.” 

“Sorry. I—I'm so sorry, forgive me,” he offered repeatedly and muttered about how he was caught off guard, an excuse the woman tuned out as she walked away with a glower. He turned to Regina and huffed out, “A heads up would’ve been nice.” 

“Then you wouldn’t turn!” she justified, a grin too wide to be innocent stretching across her face. 

Which was true, he wouldn’t have. There was nothing fascinating about those little fuckers. They were the reason he went years without so much as dipping his feet into a _swimming pool_ at some point in his life because, as irrational and ridiculous as it sounded, he feared being attacked by one. 

Good thing there was a thick glass separating them. All he could hope for was that it was built to last. 

There was so much to see but so little time for it all. A single day was in no way or shape enough to go through everything when a good portion of it was spent walking around the aquarium alone, splitting their time between the exhibits and programs, and convincing Regina to walk away from the otters. No matter how adorable they were, they couldn’t come home. He could fall for her pouty lips and big, brown eyes and agree, but New York wouldn’t. 

They returned to the place that served the churros and swapped the sweet for the savory this time around, getting a corn dog and some French fries to satisfy the slight appetite they worked up, mutually agreeing to hold back on a large meal until dinnertime. They walked around with the intent of enjoying the weather and the scenery, stopping by the docks to admire the sailboats crossing the cerulean waters and then the sea lions on the other side—good thing they were done with their food by then, the stench was as horrible as Robin remembered it being, something that would’ve made eating around it a struggle. 

Even though they’ve gotten quite the souvenirs from the places they just visited, especially New Orleans, they found themselves stopping by a few gift shops after their afternoon snack, popping into the new ones that only just opened up in the recent years. Most were mediocre, nothing too special about them. They sold what every other gift shop sold, from keychains, tee shirts and mugs with the repeated theme of Pier 39. One, in particular, caught Robin’s attention. It gave him the sense of adventure, carrying things that would intrigue any child that enjoyed dressing up and scouring their backyard on a quest to find a buried treasure. There were fake maps, compasses, little pirate telescopes, and entire kits dedicated to help children’s imagination grow. In the end though, he walked out empty-handed and straight into another store. 

“Really?” Regina questioned, her brows rising as he led them into a store that specialized in customizing stuffed animals. If it made her feel any better, he never thought he’d be walking into one of those either, but there he was. 

“Why not?” he replied with a lighthearted grumble. “Why are you, of all people, complaining about it? You love these kinds of things.” 

“I do—” she confirmed, holding her hand up to his forehead, and he rolled his eyes—“and you don’t.” 

“So, you’re not gonna help me pick something out?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Then stop asking so many questions and let’s go,” he urged, taking her by the hand and into the store. 

There was little surprise as to why the place was so popular amongst people, especially small children. It was stuffed animals galore. They got to build their own and the choices were endless—so many characters to choose from, so many options on how to dress them up, too. However, the best part, and the reason he found himself there to begin with, had to be the recording they got to stuff inside of the toy. 

“Which one do you think we should get?” Robin asked, following Regina as she took the lead and began examining every kind that was on display, from regular teddy bears and bunnies to dragons and sea creatures. 

“I don’t know,” she muttered, reaching for the rainbow teddy bear and stroking her fingers over the faux fur. “This one’s cute...but I’m not too sure about it.” 

“Should we just go with, I don’t know, a familiar face?” he suggested, gesturing in the direction of the row of popular animated characters, but she clicked her tongue at that. “What about...whatever the hell this thing is?” he trailed off, waving his hand at the bright, pink figure. Was it a unicorn? A seahorse? Who knew?

"That’s cute, too,” she commented, then turned to him with a small pout. “I’m just not so sure that’s the one either.” 

Frankly, neither did he. It was a shade of hot pink that was far too intense. Staring at it for mere moments hurt his eyes, staring at it everyday would, no doubt, blind him. 

“Hi there,” an enthusiastic voice chimed in from behind, and Robin turned around to find a young blonde beaming at him. “My name’s Ashley. Do you...would you like any help, sir?” 

“Ashley,” he repeated with a polite smile of his own and then shook his head. “No, I’m good. Thank you.” 

“Are you...sure?” she asked, almost hesitantly. 

He chuckled, nodding his head. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m perfectly fine. There are just far too many options to be able to pick one and be satisfied with it.” 

“I know,” she agreed with a laugh. “Most people go with the safer options, which are the teddy bears. Others go with their favorites. Maybe you should try going about it that way?” 

Right. Of course. Choosing by the favorites. 

“I’ll do,” he said, offering her a smile, to which she returned before shifting awkwardly and walking away. He turned to his fiancée and rolled his eyes when she began laughing. “To be fair, I did think of that.” 

“Sure you did,” she replied sarcastically. 

“I did!” he stood firm, but her only response was a hum, further proving that she didn’t believe him. 

Between the pastel kitten and the floppy-eared, light brown bunny, the latter won. There was something about the rabbit that drew them both to it. They added a scent to it—something he didn’t even know could be done—and when Regina walked away to pick out some outfits and other accessories for it, he followed the employee to get the toy stuffed. 

He stood gawkily next to the young woman as she went ahead with the first step of getting the toy ready, then cleared his throat and said, “Uh...Ashley?” She turned to him with a friendly smile and a hum, and he continued, “Is it possible to add a personalized message into it?” 

“You can,” she confirmed. 

With his phone in hand, he stepped closer and unlocked the device. “I—I have this recording and I’d really like to add it into the rabbit.” 

“We can totally get that done for you, don’t worry,” she reassured. 

Her confirmation that it was indeed doable was all he needed to breathe easy. He was worried it would be tricky or even impossible to get the file from his phone into the stuffed animal. Thankfully, it wasn’t, and he stood by her side as she transferred the recording into the toy, instructing her on where the message should start and end. The audio on his phone was lengthy, all he needed was a small portion of it. 

It wasn’t long before the gift was wrapped up and paid for—over fifty bucks for a single stuffed animal. Goodness gracious. It was insane, but at the same time, worth every cent spent. Of that, he was sure. 

The crowd gradually subsided as the sun began to set and the crisp weather returned with the twilight, forcing people in the area to shrug on their coats and jackets. As a homage to the best date they had, they made one last stop to the carousel for a final ride before having to leave to the hotel. It wasn’t as packed as they expected it to be, only a handful that were few and far between, and luckily for them, the one spot they were hoping to get was unoccupied. They settled across one another in the same exact place they did all those years ago, the same spinning cup. Only this time, they remained still, focusing on each other as the world whirled around them instead of how fast they could get the thing to spin. 

If he could have one superpower, it'd be the ability to stop time right then and there. 

There was no greater pleasure than to be stuck in that moment with the woman whom his love for was greater than life. 

* * *

Much to Robin’s dismay, time was flying by. 

They blinked and it was already the next day, and they were on the road, heading into their last bucket list adventure with a bated breath. Everything was coming to an end, and as exhausting as it’d all been, he wasn’t ready for that. Sure, he missed New York. He missed not needing to pull every article of clothing out of his packed back just to assemble a presentable outfit, and he missed their bed, more specifically, not having to wrestle the edges of the blankets that were tightly tucked into the bed frames undone at every hotel they stayed at—but finales were never his thing. 

Endings, be it happy ones or sad ones, were something he dreaded. 

The idea of closing a chapter to start another, exciting as it may be to others, terrified him—especially this one. Because when people let go of the past, they often have a vision of their future. He did not. He’d tick off the last goal, and then what? Where would he go from there?

Unfortunately for him, the almost seven hours drive from San Francisco to Santa Monica glided by quicker than he anticipated, no matter how hard he tried to extend the trip and stall the closure. They were there, pulling the rental car into the nearest empty parking spot. 

At least the hotel came with the perfect view of the beach right across it. 

“Wanna grab something to eat after we settle in?” Regina asked. 

Truth be told, no. 

His appetite was nonexistent since the early morning, no thanks to his growing anxiety. A bite of his buttered toast was all he could get in before he found himself fighting down a bile. Nonetheless, he responded with a hum because _she_ had to eat. “Anything specific you’re in the mood for?” 

“Not really, no,” she replied. “I’m kinda torn between some good ol’ room service and going out to eat though.” 

“Well, whatever you choose is fine by me, love.” It didn’t matter either way, really. If he, a self-proclaimed coffee addict, couldn’t stomach finishing a single cup of the caffeinated beverage and went about the rest of his day without another, food wouldn’t be an exception. He pushed the trunk shut, picked up the bag and turned to her with a smile, his free hand extended for her to take. “Let’s go.” 

Their fingers entwined, though only for a few brief seconds before she gave his hand a squeeze and withdrew hers. “You go ahead. I...I think I’m gonna stay back for a bit, watch the sunset.” 

He chuckled, “Alright then. I’ll call for you once we’ve checked in.” With a quick peck to her cheek, he left her by the entrance and carried the luggage into the hotel, greeted warmly by the doorman and the woman behind the front desk. 

Save for the distant echoes coming from down the hallway of the people that divulged their presence, and the giggles and footsteps of excited children tapping along the marble floor, the place was, for the most part, quiet and empty. The outside though, not so much. People were walking by, their chatters easily heard through the glass walls, forcing his attention back and forth between them and the receptionist. 

“Mister Locksley,” the woman drawled, his identification card held between her index and middle finger as she looked it over. “Room for two, right?” 

“Right,” he confirmed. When the receptionist’s eyes scanned around the place for his plus one, he added, “My fiancée’s just outside.” He looked back, catching Regina’s eyes as she, coincidentally, glanced over at the same moment. She beamed at him, and he mirrored the smile, gesturing over at her. “She’s out watching the sunset and all. Cheesy, I know.” 

The receptionist nodded with a titter. “So, you two are here for a pre-wedding honeymoon or something?” 

Not quite, but the bucket list was something personal, something he didn’t want to share with the whole world. So, he went along with what she said. “Yeah, sure. I suppose you can call it that.” 

Once the process was done and over with, and their room was ready for them, Robin took the keys from the receptionist with a polite _thank you_ and called Regina in just as he promised to do.

This time around, Regina abandoned her usual task of unpacking everything. The distinct growls coming from her stomach were half of the reason, the other was the fact that they weren’t staying for long anyway. They’d be gone by tomorrow afternoon. The only reason they were in Santa Monica was for the Ferris wheel she never got to be on the last time they were in the city. So, they dropped their suitcase, took a quick look in the mirror, and out to the pier they went. 

The place was bustling with life. Couples holding hands, young adults mingling in groups, families and their little children running around from one game to another, and the lone wolves enjoying their time just as much. There was something comforting about it all—the noises, the fresh, salty smell of the ocean combined with the typical scent of fair food, from buttered popcorn, cotton candy and funnel cakes—all which, surprisingly, eased his anxiety over the unknown. 

“Remember that?” Regina asked, pointing in the direction of the ball toss game, and he chuckled. 

“God, I’d rather not.” He spent far too much money on a single game trying to prove that he was capable of winning something. In the end, he won nothing. Every ball he propelled bounced right out of the bucket no matter how gentle he was with his throw. “I didn’t realize how awful my aim was until that day!” 

“Not always,” she purred, just about loud enough for the both of them to hear, and he rolled his eyes, failing miserably to stop himself from chuckling at her crudeness. 

He wasn’t horrible at those games. If anything, he thoroughly enjoyed them and was pretty decent at them. It was his nerves that got the best of him that day. How else would an introvert react to being around a bunch of strangers he only just met a few days prior, one of them who just so happened to be the woman he could've sworn he fell in love with at first sight? His friends were there, all four of them, but they were as unhelpful as they could be in that situation. Each of his mates found a person from Regina’s group that they’ve clicked with and went with them, leaving him on his own to embarrass himself with his lack of ability to start conversations, let alone, flirt. It led to him making the mistake of trying too hard to impress her, which only resulted in him losing more money to more rounds of every other game they tried their hand at. To add insult to the injury, his pride was knocked down when Regina won at her first try. 

He was the man. He was supposed to be the one winning the silly stuffed animals for the woman he liked, not the other way around. Women admired _that_. Women weren’t attracted to men like him; good for nothing wallflowers that couldn’t even toss a darn ring onto a bottle—according to his friend, Killian, anyway. But Killian couldn’t have been more mistaken. Regina was just as happy cheering him on and, ultimately, being the one to pop the balloons that earned her the prize. Seeing her face light up at her victory was a balm to his bruised ego and the awakening he needed to realize his friend’s misogynistic ideology wasn’t the way to go, because sometimes women enjoyed winning their own stuffed animals, and that didn’t make him any lesser of a man. 

Despite all the cash he lost at every unsuccessful round of the multiple games they played together, he must’ve done something right to impress her in the midst of his failure. She still agreed to marry him. 

“Oh god, remember _that_ one?” Robin asked, nodding his chin toward the water race game. 

It was the last game they played together as a group of ten, minus Regina, and the only one he managed to win throughout the whole day. All his previous losses motivated him, and having Regina standing right behind him with her hand on his shoulder, encouraging him every second of the way certainly helped. 

“Someone was a little too competitive at it,” she teased. 

“You can’t blame me. I lost every game before it, I had to step it up a bit,” he justified with a laugh. “I didn’t want you thinking I’m some poor sod that can’t do anything right.” 

“I didn’t,” she admitted. “I thought you were adorable.” 

“Adorable?” he repeated, his brows pinched together in confusion. Her response came as a shrug before she entwined her pinky around his, and he continued, “How the hell was I adorable? I was sweating bullets!” 

“I don’t know,” she drawled. “It’s—I guess it’s the effort you put into actually trying to impress me that was cute. Not that you had to try at all, I was intrigued from the moment I saw you struggling with that horse.” 

“Well, I’m glad you found it amusing how terrified I was that day,” he replied, playfully bumping into her side and eliciting a chuckle out of her. 

* * *

So many options, not enough appetite. There were dozens of restaurants and cafes across the pier to choose from, different cuisines and fusions, everything ranging in price from affordable to the slightly more extreme. Money wasn’t an issue though, not to Robin. So, if Regina’s pick was fine dining, then fine dining it was. However, Regina’s, rather predictable, pick were burgers and shakes, and he went along with it for the sake of nostalgia. But, perhaps, two monstrous cheeseburgers doused in barbecue sauce and a chocolate shake might’ve been a bit excessive. It was a miracle they managed to eat every last bite, especially when realization hit them halfway through that they weren't really all that hungry, just in need for a little something to fuel them with enough energy so they could make it to the Ferris wheel. After all, he drove the whole day away just to cross that specific ride off Regina's bucket list. 

“Excited?” Robin asked as they queued for the ride. Dozens of people were already ahead of them and the line continued to grow behind them by the minutes. 

“Very,” Regina answered, practically buzzing with excitement. 

The way she nodded so eagerly and beamed so big brought a smile to his face, and for a split second, it made him forget how much of a bad idea it was to get on that ride right after the heavy meal they had. All he could do was cross his fingers and hope nothing would come out. Not on the pod anyway. 

They weren’t strangers to Ferris wheels. It wasn’t their first time getting on one, certainly not Regina’s. According to the stories she told him from her childhood, she grew up frequenting the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island—so for it to be on her bucket list confused him. Wasn’t the list meant for things she’d never done before? 

“Alright.” The operator ushered them into the red pod and secured the tiny, metal gate shut. “Don’t go sticking your feet or head out. Don’t rock the pod or try anything else just as stupid, like, get the door open or some shit,” he unenthusiastically recited the rules. 

Dumbfounded, Robin asked, “People actually do that?” 

The operator scoffed, “Oh, you’ll be surprised how crazy some people are, buddy.” 

“Jesus,” Robin muttered and sank back into his seat, shaking his head at the insanity of some people. Thinking about it though, he had a couple of friends with little to no brain cells that would attempt something similar for absolutely nothing at all.

They sat in silence as the operator continued giving the same instructions to every person that came after them, his voice gradually growing fainter the further up the wheel lifted them, until he couldn’t be heard anymore. Nothing but the overlapping voices of the people below them and the distant crashes of waves of the ocean that surrounded them. 

Although Robin still wasn’t sure why Santa Monica’s Ferris wheel was included on her list and why that one in particular, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would—one thing he did know was that it was breathtaking from all the way up there. If only he remembered to grab his camera on the way out, because his phone would never do the sight justice. To him, at least, the experience gave the London Eye a run for its money, and every other gravity-defying ride he ever got on. 

When the giant wheel came to a sudden halt, suspending them at the very top, Robin went against the operator’s orders and got up, shuffling carefully to the side Regina was sitting at and sat next to her. “Hey,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. He wrapped his arms around her, and she instantly leaned back into him, her beam wide across her face. “All good?” 

“Perfect,” she confirmed, tilting her head to press it against his shoulder. “It’s even prettier than I expected it to be.” 

“Yeah?” he chuckled, resting his chin over her shoulder at the feeling of her hand on the back of his head, fingernails gently scraping along his scalp the way he enjoyed. “Good thing the ride was closed for maintenance last time we were here. I think we would’ve broken every rule and definitely rocked the pods,” he teased, drawing a loud laugh out of her. 

“You couldn’t even look at me without turning all red,” she shot back, giving his head a playful smack, and he chuckled. 

It was true. He wasn’t quite as bold in his early twenties. He blushed holding her hand, no way would he have had the guts to initiate anything more intimate, in public, no less. 

“Let a man dream!” He pulled her closer and nuzzled into her neck, his lips dropping a few kisses along it. 

“Hey, Robin?” At his hum, she continued, “Thank you. For this...for everything.” 

He’d argue that there wasn’t anything she needed to thank him for, but knowing her and how stubborn she was, it’d be pointless, a complete waste of time. So, he leaned back when she did and brushed her hair behind her ear with a smile. “I’d do it all again, in a heartbeat.” 

**Ride the Ferris wheel in Santa Monica: check.**

* * *

Half Moon Bay. 

The coastal city wasn’t on Regina’s bucket list. She didn’t even have the slightest clue it was their next, and last, destination before finally heading home. But it was where it all started, it made sense to return to it. 

A surprise getaway fifteen years ago brought them together in that exact place. A trip that he was forced into by his roommate and their mutual friends, and he couldn’t have been any happier about it—even though they practically kidnapped him. 

The first time he saw her, he and his group of friends were wandering along the hill that overlooked the ocean in search of the perfect grassy spot to sit on and relax with their chilled drinks, and very own snacks that didn’t cost an arm and a leg. Rowdy as they were being, all Robin paid attention to was the brunette beauty hanging out by the firepit with her own group of friends, singing and dancing the night away without a care in the world. He stood by and watched for a moment, mesmerized by the way her white sundress flowed around her as she twirled, the way her long curls bounced with every step. From where he was, all he saw with a silhouette, and that was all it took for his heart to stutter. 

The second time was the morning after at breakfast, where he managed to get a better look at her. To say she was beautiful would’ve been an understatement then, and still. He was starstruck. She turned heads when she walked all the way to the table by the window and sat alone. Good thing he did, too. His buddies had one too many drinks and opted to sleep in, thus, losing the opportunity to tease him over gawking at her. She spent the majority of her breakfast staring at the ocean, and he spent his in awe of her. 

The third time he saw her was the time they officially met. Every one of his mates went their own separate way. Mulan found a person outside their circle that she clicked with and decided to join her at the gym. Both Will and Killian were at the bar, competing with one another over who was the better flirt between them. Which left him alone with David, who insisted on a horseback ride along the shore and wouldn’t take no for an answer, especially after having spent over a year trying to convince him to join him and his girlfriend at the stables they frequented rather than lounge around at the apartment with nothing better to do. 

Much to Robin’s relief, the ride came to a quick end when Regina approached him, asking if he was alright. Given the way he shook like a leaf on a windy day, he most certainly was not. Something told him she already knew that though, despite him reassuring her otherwise, because she climbed off her steed and suggested walking next to the horses instead. Grateful as he was for her sparing him the embarrassment of a lifetime, he was still reluctant to be anywhere near the damned beast. Horses weren’t even on his top ten list of favorite animals. 

They talked, and he finally put a name to the face that day. Regina Mills, a fine art graduate who, just like him, was on a vacation with her clique for a birthday celebration—and, well, the rest was history. 

The logical thing to do after a tedious drive, and an almost hour-long waiting time to be checked in and escorted to their room would’ve been retiring for the night. Instead, they abandoned their luggage and headed straight to the beach, leaving behind the festive energy that occupied the resort as they approached the holidays. The delighted screams of children and overlapping voices of other guests faltering in the background as they walked farther away from the horde of people and along the bank of the ocean. The silence was calming, the soft whooshing of the waves caressing their bare feet as they sauntered across the smooth, damp sand. 

“Can you believe it’s been fifteen years since?” Robin asked, glancing back in Regina’s direction as she meandered behind him. 

“It doesn’t feel like it,” she replied. 

It didn’t. At times—most times—it felt like it was only yesterday that they walked along the same beach for the first time. She was talking up a storm, and he listened, all the while, unbeknownst to him, steadily falling in love with her. The way she spoke with her hands, and how the more excited she got, the more gestures she made. How ecstatic she got over the little things, such as the seashells they spent their time plucking out of the ground and stuffing into the jar she carried with her. 

“You know, you never told me how you, a bunch of college graduates, managed to stay here for three days,” she said, prompting a laugh out of him. 

God, he almost forgot about that. “We collectively paid for three people and then snuck Will and Killian in after we checked in. It made it a lot cheaper.” 

“No,” she gasped in disbelief. 

“I know, I know.” He flashed her a sheepish grin and shrugged. “Not something a lawyer should do, but if I had the choice to go back and change it...I wouldn’t. If it wasn’t for that trip, I would’ve never met you, and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

With a little help from the lambent building behind them and the rows of Christmas lights surrounding the area as a guide in the dark, he carefully lowered himself onto the ground, settling close enough for the water to sweep over his feet with plenty of room to avoid getting completely drenched. 

“I get why you love the ocean so much,” he said. 

“Yeah?” she responded. “Why’s that?” 

“It’s comforting. It reminds me of you.” He looked over at her as she joined him on the sand, her knees pulled up to her chest and arms secured around them. “Everything reminds me of you,” he whispered, turning his attention to the ripples of the sea as his chest heaved with a shuddered sigh. 

Abruptly and without a warning, Robin rose to his feet and yanked his shirt over his head, followed by his pants next, discarding them both behind him.

“What—what’re you doing?” Regina questioned, swiftly pushing herself up, too, as he approached the shore. “Robin—“ 

“I’m sick and tired of letting fear stand in the way,” he cut her off. “I let so much get by me because of fear, Regina. I lost so _fucking_ much because of fear.” His humorless chuckle masking the waver in his voice, and he shook his head. “Not anymore, no. This—this bloody pool of everlasting water—shit—this is going to be the first step I _need_ to be taking.” 

“But right now? It’s dark,” she argued. “You can’t even see your toes on land, Robin. It’s dangerous.” 

“I won’t go far,” he promised. Just a dip, just enough to challenge himself, to break the chains that were holding him back for all those long, agonizing years. He needed it to figure out even a fraction of where and what the future should be. 

He lifted her hand from the tight grip she had around his arm and planted a soft peck to the inside of it, then let go with a reassuring smile and not another word spoken, and lumbered directly into the ocean. Every step he took was weighed down by his fears, but with every wave that crashed against him, the sense of dread was knocked out. He felt lighter. His mind was at ease despite the tears that burned behind his eyelids. It wasn’t just about his aversion of the deep sea. It was about fear in general and all the things it held him back from and ruined. It was about the stolen moments he’d never get back and enjoy. 

“Robin!” Regina’s voice called out for him, and he opened his eyes and turned to her, only then realizing just how far into the water he ventured, several meters separating them. 

His mouth opened but the words of solace on the tip of his tongue never got the chance to comfort her when a comber sent him undersea and all he saw was pitch black. All he heard was the stifled calls of his name drowned out by the violent splashing of water as he thrashed in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. He managed to regain his balance, dug his heels into the sand, and with every last bit of strength he had left in him, he resurfaced with a gasp, coughing and sputtering. 

“Oh god, oh god—are you okay?” Regina asked in a panic, meeting him halfway to help him back onto the beach. 

He nodded as he floundered next to her, too worn out from everything that happened to be upright on his feet. “I’m fine,” he insisted through his heavy pants. “I’m...” he trailed off, his eyes widening when his hand brushed over his neck and it was bare. No. Oh no, no. “My—my chain.”

“What?” Regina whispered. 

“My chain, Regina. I—I must’ve lost it when the wave hit,” he stammered. “I have to look for it. I have to get it back.”

“Robin, honey—“

“I have to look for it. I can’t lose it,” he whispered, repeating the same sentences over and over under his breath like a mantra. He pushed her hand away in an attempt to break free from her grasp, but she reached for him with her other hand and tightened her grip, pulling him back. 

“It’s nighttime, Robin, it’s dark,” she reasoned. “You’d never be able to find it, and in the ocean, of all places.” 

“You don’t know that!” he snapped, turning to her with tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. “You don’t _fucking_ know that.” 

“Let it go,” she whispered, and he shook his head. Every passing moment was a struggle for him to keep himself together, to stay calm and collected. 

“I can’t,” he mumbled. 

“You _can_ ,” she persisted, forcefully turning him to her instead. “Let it go.” Her hands cupped his face, thumbs softly stroking his cheeks. Her loving touch was all it took for him to fall apart and shamelessly start sobbing out in the open. She leaned in, pressed her forehead to his, and whispered, “Let me go, Robin.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for what I just did.


	5. Between The Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual disclaimer that I've never been to the places mentioned in the story unless stated otherwise. Also, every information I got came from the internet, so it's more than likely that it's all wrong. If so and at any point if it makes anyone uncomfortable and/or offended, let me know what the right info/term is and I'll be quick to change it, also I'm gonna apologize in advance, too. AND, if there are any mistakes, please point them out. Thank you and happy reading! :)

It was twisted, really. How he found comfort in the thing that terrorized him for years. But there he was, still by the ocean as the dusk turned into dawn, his heartache remedied by the gentle folds of waves crashing over the shore. It helped, somewhat. Was he happier? No. Was he feeling any better? Most certainly not. But he was numb enough to pretend, for a moment, the pain wasn’t still throbbing deep down inside of him.

They had plans to come back to the resort. Plans to get married right where they struck up their first conversation. According to the folder stacked with ideas Regina hid under their bed, there should’ve been a total of fifty guests, twenty-five seated on either side of the aisle lined with steel lanterns. It would’ve been more had she not scratched out the names of people they weren’t close to and the ones that couldn’t travel the distance to the coastal city, and he would’ve been happy either way. All that mattered to him was marrying her. All he wanted was that.

The color scheme she picked out couldn’t have been any more perfect. The combination of the blue ocean and the brown of the sand with the contrast of scarlet red hibiscus flowers and its green leaves mantled along the wooden arch, ribbons of silk draped across the corners in a shade of white that matched the dress she would’ve worn. The wedding favors were supposed to go home with their guests, the seeds within the little, glass bottles were meant to be planted—beautiful dahlias, calendulas, cosmos, and daisies should’ve blossomed in people’s gardens, not collect dust in the storage room.

Her rough sketches should’ve been a reality, but life was so unbelievably cruel.

“You have to put an end to this.”

Caught off guard, Robin lifted his head up and looked over at Regina by his side. “What’re you talking about?”

“You know what, Robin,” she replied. “It went on for too long. It’s not healthy.”

It took a moment for the thought to set in and snap him back to reality. He tensed and dismissed her accusations, “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Stop it!” she snapped. “Stop with this act. Stop pretending like what happened, didn’t happen. It’s been five years!”

“I can’t!” he roared back as the tears rapidly filled his eyes. “I—I don’t know how, Regina.”

“You have to,” she whispered, inching closer to him. He knew she wasn’t there, just a ghost, an image his brain fabricated to help him grieve and mourn her loss—but he felt the weight of her hand when it came to rest over his arm. “For her sake.”

His breath hitched and he sniffled. She was right. Five years were far too long. While his mind was ready to move forward though, his heart wasn’t. “What if—”

“Stop doubting yourself.” She tucked her finger under his chin, forcing him to look at her. It was almost comical how the sunrays beaming behind her made her look like an angel, because she was. “Go back to her.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat when she moved back and reached for his phone. A little tap on the screen revealed the image of a miniature version of Regina bearing his dimples. Tough as the pill was to swallow, she was right—he had to stop, for her sake.

“She’s so much like you,” Robin whispered, his lips curling into a small smile despite the tears he tried desperately to hold back. “Makes life bearable, you know?” He choked back a sob and continued, “Because God knows I would’ve followed you to the grave if it wasn’t for her.”

Even then it wasn’t the easiest. Every day was a struggle. Every night ended with tears. It was a constant battle with his feelings every time he looked at their daughter. She was a reminder of what he lost, and her being a carbon copy of Regina didn’t help in the slightest. From her features to the way she stood with her arms folded in front of her whenever she was concentrating on something—it was all Regina.

“Go back home to her,” she whispered, and he nodded. It wasn’t as if he was going to spend the rest of his life running from his responsibilities. He already wasted five years doing that. “I’m always going to be with you,” she promised. “You’re just gonna have to look closely and you’ll see me, always hanging around you two.”

It wasn’t enough. Seeing her in things, it wasn’t enough—but it was his only option. He couldn’t bring back the dead, no matter how much he prayed for it. Their life wasn’t a fairytale where a simple deal with a wizard could grant him his wish.

His shoulders sacked as he sighed and scrolled through the contact list. With a bit of hesitation, he tapped on the name of one of his oldest friends and brought the phone to his ear. It took two rings before a sleepy voice greeted him.

“ _Robin?_ ” A bit of shuffling around before a clearer voice came through, “ _Robin, is that you? Is everything okay? Is something wrong with—_ “

“Hi, Mulan,” he cut her off and cleared his throat, shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him through the phone call. “Hey…no—I mean, yes—I’m okay, we’re okay. I just…” he trailed off. It was such an asshole move of him, to call up a friend he’d not spoken to in almost five years so early in the morning. Had she not picked up though, he would’ve hung up on the third ring.

“ _Robin, you still there?_ ”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I’m here. I was just…I was hoping for a favor.”

“ _Oh god. Of course, anything_.”

Her eagerness brought a smile to his face. Years of hardly any contact and she still had his back, as she’d done when they were younger. “I was wondering if it’s possible to swing by today, by your parlor. I think I’m finally gonna take you up on that offer and get a tattoo.”

Her laughter was followed by an enthusiastic, _“Sure. I think I can fit you in for a walk-in. Say…three in the afternoon?_ ”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

* * *

February 27th 2014

Relocating from California to New York City was, as expected, tough.

It took Robin some time to get used to all the changes, from having to walk everywhere rather than drive to the harsh winter weather he thought he was prepared for. Aside from the physical changes, the move took a toll on his mental health for a little while. The first few months were the hardest. He kept to himself, mostly. Only stepped out of his bubble to meet the new people Regina was so eager for him to meet, and to get groceries and other necessities they needed to get their new life together. All the while wondering if the move was the right decision or if he only agreed to please her.

Initially, it was the latter.

He was so madly in love that, like a fool, he agreed without weighing in the pros and cons of the situation when she suggested it. She never pressed or gave him an ultimatum to choose between moving with her to her hometown or breaking up. She brought it up once over dinner, and he was on board with the idea. Eventually though, New York became home. Granted, the peace of mind and success didn’t come overnight, but when it did, he was the happiest he’d ever been. Engaged to the love of his life with a good paying job at an even better law firm than the one he started his career at—it couldn’t have turned out any better.

So, in hindsight, moving was the right decision.

Though, on days like this, he greatly missed the warmth of the sunny state. It was never fun being stuck in the middle of a blizzard.

Robin stepped into their apartment with a shudder and shrugged off the extra piles of clothing he had on him. If the way he shivered wasn’t any indication of how bleak it was outside, surely his reddened ears and the entirety of his face was. “Jesus. Is it just me or this is the worst case of snow we’ve had in years?”

Instead of the music that was usually on full blast and his fiancée’s zealous greeting, he was met with silence and a dimmed room—everything that was out of the ordinary. If it wasn’t for her coat hanging where he hung his and her pair of boots still glistening with the remnants of the melted snow, he would’ve assumed she wasn’t home yet.

“Regina?” he called out. The little sniffle that followed led him to where she was, hunched over on the chair by the window with her face buried in her hands. He frowned and lowered himself down in front of her, both of his hands coming to rest against either of her thighs. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head and sniffled again in response, and his frown deepened.

“Something wrong with your mom?” he tried, but she shook her head once more. “Dad?” Again, another no that only further confused him. “Sweetheart...look at me,” he whispered, his tone a soothing coo. “Talk to me.” As much as he loathed prodding her for answers, he hated it more knowing something was troubling her. He brushed her hair back, and she lifted her head up, caramel eyes bloodshot and weary.

Wordlessly, she retrieved something from behind her and quietly held it between them—an unmistakably white stick with a blue lid, and a very clear _pregnant_ written across the bottom half of it.

Of all the things he imagined being the reason to her distress, a surprise pregnancy wasn’t one of them. The topic of children was something they discussed and mutually agreed on holding off for a couple more years at the very least. New York wasn’t the cheapest state to reside in, let alone, start a family without a struggle in the conditions they were in. He was the sole provider after Regina quit her job to pursue her dream of selling her arts and crafts. It was the wisest decision—just until their savings were enough to allow them to live a comfortable life without being forced to scrape by.

Regardless of their intentions, what was done, was done. Losing his mind over it wasn’t going to change anything.

Robin rubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to wrap his head around the news and calm his racing heart. “Alright, okay. So...God, pregnant? Shit—are you...are you going to abort it?” It was an option, one they stupidly never considered because they blindly trusted her birth control and never set a plan a or a plan b in case of a mishap.

“I don’t know,” Regina mumbled.

He sighed at the fresh tears that rapidly welled up in her eyes and nodded, taking her hands in his in consolation. Whatever her decision was, ready or not, he was going to stand by her. For better or for worse, he promised her that. “I love you,” he reminded, then stood up and pulled her on her feet with him. “Come on, let’s draw you a nice bath and...and we’ll figure everything out.”

Regina sat on the toilet seat cover as Robin tested the water filling the tub, ensuring it was at the temperature that she enjoyed—right before it was as scalding as the pit of Hell. At least she was merciful enough to spare him the torture by adjusting it to somewhat colder every time they showered together.

“You’re gonna burn your skin off one day,” he murmured, eliciting a tired chuckle out of her that brought a smile to his face. He wiped his hand dry over his clothes and turned to her. “Any oils you’d like me to add?”

She shook her head. “Maybe light a few candles though.”

“Any specific scent?” he asked, and she shook her head again. “Okay...let’s see what you’ve got then.” He got up, pressed a quick kiss to her head, and left the bathroom to retrieve a couple candles from the collection she had in their bedroom.

Just how many candles did one person need? There were so many of them. The floral ones and the fruity ones, and the earthy scents in between. In the end, he went with the combination of jasmine, chamomile, and sandalwood.

By the time he returned, she’d stripped bare and stood in front of the mirror, eyeing her reflection. Her gaze fell to her flat stomach, and his followed. They weren’t ready to be parents, but he’d give Pinocchio a run for his money if he claimed she wouldn’t be the best mother.

He cleared his throat to get her attention and set the candles down, one on either end of the bathtub, and another by the sink. “I hope those are okay.”

She picked up every candle and gave it a sniff, then nodded in approval. “They’ll do.”

As Robin began igniting every wick, Regina settled into the bath he drew for her. He wasn’t done yet though. He set the matchbox down and stepped outside, grabbing two red roses out of the dozen he purchased the other day and ripped the petals to scatter in the water. A little something more to brighten her dampened mood.

It did the job. Her smile grew wider, and he mirrored it. “All good?”

She nodded, confirming, “All good.”

Still cladded in the clothes he wore to work, Robin dropped down onto the floor next to the bathtub, opting to keep her company despite the growing pain in the front of his head. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy after the bombshell she dropped anyway, so he’d rather spend his time comforting her instead of wasting it lying motionless on the bed.

"I took my birth control,” she swore. He turned to her, his brows pinched together at the way she avoided his gaze by poking the crimson petals underwater, only to watch them float back to the surface again. “I never missed a day. I—I even took them right on time and—”

“Shit happens,” he cut her off with a shrug. “Birth control isn’t a hundred percent effective, you and I both know that. So, it’s nobody’s fault.” And it certainly wasn’t hers to carry the guilt of a failed contraception plan. “I’m not...angry. Scared, perhaps. But I sure as hell won’t be throwing a temper tantrum over something we did everything in our power to prevent yet still happened. You’re pregnant, and—and you said it yourself; everything happens for a reason.”

“You want us to keep the baby?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” he quickly replied, looking back at her. “Do you?”

The hesitation was evident on her face, the way she opened and closed her mouth a few times before any words came through. “I—I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “Are we financially ready for it?”

Truthfully? They weren’t. But he didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. She stared at him as though she was expecting a different answer from the one he had. An answer that would ease her worries. He couldn’t burden her with the fact that there was still some student debt to pay off, both of theirs combined, especially with the guilt she already carried over quitting her full-time job at the elementary school, even with his support.

“We can be,” he replied, offering her a small smile as he pushed a curl behind her ear. “So, whatever you decide, just know I’ll fully support you.”

* * *

It was decided that same night that they’d keep the baby, marking the beginning of their journey to parenthood. An appointment a week later only confirmed what two dozen pregnancy tests confirmed before it. Regina was pregnant, and ten weeks along. The irony of the situation had Robin cachinnating at the doctor’s office. Christmas Day, of all days. That was when the universe decided on their behalf.

It wasn’t all as bad as he expected it to be though.

As soon as the initial shock wore off, they were ecstatic. The baby wasn’t planned but their whole life quickly revolved around it.

It wasn’t the scent of freshly brewed coffee that had Regina up and out of bed so early, but morning sickness, and Robin found himself by her side every time it happened, holding her hair out of the way with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. His daily ritual of greeting her with a kiss after a long day at work was slightly altered to add another to her bump that gradually grew as well. The occasional shopping sprees weren’t just for them anymore. Long gone were the hours spent browsing through new fancy clothes to purchase for themselves as they devoted their time to look for baby necessities instead.

But with all the added expenses came stress. More and more money had to be taken out of their savings to pay for all the ultrasounds, prenatal vitamins, and the tests that weren’t covered by the insurance. The cribs, changing tables, bassinets, car seats—none of those were cheap either.

Sure, the baby registry was there to help them with what they needed. However, it didn’t feel right asking other people to buy those pricey items for their child. So, the list that existed was a short one with inexpensive things varying from diapers, clothes, and toys. The rest was covered by him, from the money he earned working twice as hard and picking up more cases than he should’ve—because that was the beginning of the end.

* * *

September 22rd 2014

Babies were expensive. It didn’t take being a scientist to figure that out. It was basic knowledge to know that caring for another person required more than just loving them. As important as love was, it didn’t get them the wall of diapers they stocked up on in various sizes or the high-end furniture in the nursery that would warrant their baby’s safety and comfort. It didn’t cover the cost of the hospital bills at the end of every appointment. Love didn’t pay for the best midwife that Regina found and was satisfied with, awkward as that would’ve been—money did.

Thousands of dollars that Robin racked up over the months by throwing himself at every opportunity he was presented with. He took all the cases he could get through so close together and often stayed back later than usual at the office. He was up to his ears with work, so much so that he brought his files home on most days.

Tonight wasn’t any different.

It was past midnight and he was still in the living room, going through all the paperwork from his latest case and reviewing every bit of detail on the information he had to avoid missing anything significant. Sadly, concentrating on his task was nearly impossible. It was difficult to scrutinize his notes when Regina was blasting David Bowie’s _Space Oddity_ in the kitchen. Nevertheless, he did his best to block out the music and, for a little while, it worked. Until she waddled out and plopped right next to him on the couch.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she pressed her chin to his shoulder.

Silly as her question was, considering it was obvious, he still answered her with a small smile, “Working.”

“Big case or a small one?”

“A divorce.” He sighed, putting away one stack of papers to retrieve another. “The guy’s refusing to sign and my client’s just ready to move on from all of this.”

“And he’s refusing because of...alimony or something?”

“No,” he responded. “He’s refusing because he’s supposedly still in love with her, but she’s over him. According to her, he’s a man-child. He comes from wealth so he expects everything to be handed to him on a silver platter. That and he cheated on her with multiple women during almost their entire marriage.”

Regina scoffed beside him and shook her head. “You know, I’ll never understand why people do that.”

“You and I both,” he muttered.

He couldn’t imagine himself ever stooping to that level. To be so dishonest with someone he was meant to love and betray them in the most unimaginable way. Cheating was a deal-breaker for him. Once the trust was gone, what was there to the relationship? It was the base of it.

Thankfully, the timer in the kitchen went off before he sunk deeper into his depressing thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

“And those are the cookies done,” Regina announced.

That woman and her cravings.

Who even made cookies at almost one in the morning?

At least her cravings were, somewhat, normal. There were the infamous pickles and a few sips of its brine, the powdered orange flavored drink mix by the spoonfuls, the peanut butter and chocolate spread sandwiches she’d been going back to almost every night for the past month, and ice. Good ol’ frozen water that she found pleasure in chewing on. Everything else was nothing out of the ordinary, save for the random times she decided she needed to have them—hence the one o’clock cookies.

As much as he loved her and her company, he was relieved to see her walk into the kitchen again so he could get back to working without having to answer her every question. It’d been a long day. All he wanted was to finish up and go to bed.

Unfortunately, the blissful moment was short-lived.

Regina returned minutes later with a stack of cookies fresh out of the oven and sat next to him. There was nothing wrong with having her around. He loved having her around. It was how she asked him a hundred and one questions in between every other breath that was getting on his nerves. The lack of sleep and food in his stomach, and the added stress of the baby’s rapidly approaching due date weren’t helping.

“Try this,” she offered. “It’s a new recipe.”

“I’m—I’m trying to get this over with, sweetheart,” he tried, but she persisted, breaking a cookie in half before holding it up to his mouth.

“Just a little bite,” she pressed. “It’s still warm and gooey—”

"It’s peanut butter,” he pointed out.

“But it’s in a cookie, and it’s got chocolate chunks in it,” she replied.

“It doesn’t matter. I hate it in all forms,” he argued, leaning away from the offending dessert. He hated peanut butter. It didn’t matter if it was creamy or crunchy. It didn’t matter if it was on a toast, in a milkshake or even a cookie. He _hated_ it with passion.

“I just want your opinion on it,” she muttered. “It’s a small bite, Robin, it won’t kill you.”

All the built-up stress pushed him to his breaking point and he snapped, “I don’t fucking want it, Regina! I despise this—this ghastly thing and you know it, so why stubbornly insist that I try it? It won’t even matter what I think about it because I’d hate it either way.”

"Okay, okay. I’m—”

“No,” he cut her off sharply. “You’re not a child. You can clearly see how busy I am. I’ve been slaving away at work for months now so I can provide the best for you and the baby, but you’re out here acting like one, nagging me with all these stupid questions and— _this_!” He gestured at the cookies with a scowl.

“Robin—”

“I’ve hardly had any sleep in months, Regina,” he continued. “I’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours at this point because I’m trying to get through as much as I can before our daughter is here in, I don’t know, less than two weeks from now. I don’t even feel like a human being anymore. I wanna finish up work and go straight to bed, get at least a few hours of some decent sleep, but no. You’re out here trying to force-feed me something I’m not in the mood for—something I _hate_ ,” he repined. “All you do is complain about every little thing or—or continuously make a mess in the kitchen that I have to clean up in the end because your feet start to hurt.”

He should’ve stopped there. The shock on her face and the way the tears flowed down her cheeks should have been his cue to bite his tongue. He said a lot, dropped far too many hurtful words that no amount of damage control would salvage. But when it rained, it poured. He stuffed so much inside of him for months that it was hard to contain his feelings once they were out in the open.

“I’m doing everything I can and you’re not taking this seriously. I’m working my ass off while you’ve done nothing since quitting your job but spend a fortune on crafty materials for a business that would never see the light. We could’ve kept that money saved for this child that I didn’t even want!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake.

“Regina, that’s—that’s not what I meant.”

Too little, too late. The damage was done.

She tossed the plate on the table with a clatter and got up, and he sighed, burying his face in his hands out of frustration. Idiot. A fucking idiot was exactly what he was. He should’ve reined in his anger instead of implying that both her and their child were a burden on him. They weren’t—they were the farthest from it. She quit her job because _he_ insisted on her following her dreams, and if her dreams consisted of starting up a silly, little boutique that sold handmade items, then so be it. It was her dream. He was supposed to stick by her side like he promised her he would, not turn around and judge it in the heat of the moment. But that was nothing compared to his comment about their baby. It took the two of them to make it happen. It was his responsibility as much as it was hers, and for him to act like it was her fault she ended up pregnant before they were fully prepared disgusted him.

The sound of the door slamming shut bounced him back to the bitter reality. He lifted his head up only to find himself alone. “Fuck,” he muttered. “God-fucking-dammit, you’re an utter disgrace, Robin Locksley.”

Rather than hanging around and waiting for her to return, he hurried on his feet to follow her. It was far too late for her to be outside, especially so heavily pregnant in a neighborhood that wasn’t the safest after dark. He grabbed his coat and hers as well in case she opted for a walk around the block to cool off before heading back in, and then stepped out.

She was in her car by then, slowly backing out of the parking, and he did what any sane person would’ve in that situation—lock the front door. It was his first instinct. The last thing either of them needed was to return to a burglarized house. But just as he turned around for a second, the sound of screeching tires over concrete pierced through the stillness of the night, followed by the spine-chilling crash of two vehicles colliding.

He expected the worst.

He expected a flipped, unrecognizable car.

He expected a loss.

By some miracle, it was none. The wrong side of Regina’s car was totaled, away from the direct impact that could’ve ended her life.

Robin sprinted toward her in a panic as the other driver sped away. In a different scenario, he would’ve done his best to get a glimpse of the stranger’s license plate to report the accident to the police, but his fiancée and their baby were his top, and only, priority.

“Shit—Regina, are you okay?” He ran to the driver side, his hand yanking at the door handle to no avail. It was locked. “Darling, the door—can you unlock it for me?” He kept his cool despite how alarmed he was over the incident, only seconds away from pushing the panic button. She needed him cool, calm and collected. She needed him alert and present.

His concern grew at the grimace on her face and the bit of blood oozing out of the cut on her forehead though. The way she struggled to do the simple task of unlocking the door. What felt like hours to him were only a few torturous seconds before she finally managed and the door swung open.

He hurried to her side and cupped her face in his hands as he looked over her for any other visible injuries. Luckily, it was only the small wound on her forehead that he saw. Hopefully, that was all to it. “Are you alright? Is the baby alright?” With one hand still on her cheek, he reached into his pocket for his phone with the other and swiftly called for help. “Are you hurting anywhere else, love?” Her only response was a groan and an incoherent mumble. “You’ll be okay,” he promised. “You and the baby will be okay—hello?” He balanced the phone on his shoulder and pressed it to his ear.

“ _911, what’s your emergency?_ ”

“There’s—God—there's been an accident. My fiancée—someone crashed into her car and—and she’s pregnant. Please help,” he pleaded, a blabbering mess as he began reciting what’d just happened.

“ _Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down so I can help you, alright?_ ”

“Hurry, please.”

" _Can you give me the address?_ ”

It was simple. Their address. He knew it by heart—they lived at that same address for years. But in that moment, he couldn’t remember it for the life of him. He stammered and cursed under his breath, his cool slowly wearing off by the seconds. “I—I—fuck, I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

“ _Deep breaths_ ,” the woman on the other end of the call instructed. “ _I know you’re scared but you need to try and clear your mind to remember, for your family’s sake._ ”

Hearing those words were exactly what he needed to compose himself. He sighed, nodding even though she couldn’t see him. “Right, yes.” He cleared the lump lodged in his throat and continued, “God it’s—it’s 108 Mifflin Street.”

“ _Good, good,_ ” she praised. “ _We’ll be sending someone over as fast as we can._ ”

“Please hurry,” he whispered, his hand moving to Regina’s bump instead, hoping to feel some sort of a movement from their unborn daughter that would confirm she was alright and put his mind at ease.

There was none—and while it wasn’t anything out of the norm for a baby to not be squirming during every second of the day, something felt off about it. His gut feeling filled him with worries of something being terribly wrong.

And he wasn’t the only one carrying those fears.

Regina let out a gut-wrenching sob that instantly brought tears to his eyes. “I don’t wanna lose her,” she whimpered, and he sniffled, shaking his head at her words.

He couldn’t promise her what he had no control over, so he didn’t. He cupped her face in his hands instead and pressed multiple kisses to her forehead, hoping at least one would help soothe her. “If there’s anything I know for a fact about our little starfish, it’s that she’s as strong as her mother.”

But how strong? Help wasn’t fast enough, the ambulance was taking its sweet time, and Robin wasn’t willing to risk his unborn child’s life trying to find out.

At the ten minutes mark, he lost his patience. He knew better than to move an injured person from the scene of an accident, but the risk of putting a bit of strain on a broken or bruised bone was far less concerning than death.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” he asked, carefully unbuckling the seatbelt to remove her from the damaged vehicle, and she shook her head. Nevertheless, he gently dug his fingers into every surface of her body that he could reach for, squeezing to confirm nothing was fractured. She winced when his fingers made contact with her side. “Your ribs?”

She shook her head and replied, “My back.”

His initial thought was her spine. It worried him that she might’ve hurt it in the accident, leaving him second-guessing his decision over moving her on his own—did he really have any other choice though? It was nearing twelve minutes since he made the call and help was nowhere to be found. Not even sirens from a distance to indicate their arrival.

Grudgingly, he chose to follow through with his plan.

“Okay...alright...” he muttered to himself. “I’m going to have to move you, okay? I’ll be gentle,” he promised. At her permission, he wasted no time running back into the house to retrieve his own keys. He was in and out in record time, stumbling his way down the stairs to his car, tripping over his own feet. He unlocked it and pushed the back door open as wide as it’d go for a quick and easier access, then rushed to her again. As carefully as he possibly could, he wrapped an arm around her back and tucked the other beneath her thighs, then carried her away from the wreckage.

* * *

The drive to the nearest hospital was a blur.

All Robin remembered was the sound of his car horn going off again and again to alert the others he was zooming past, and the pain in his chest caused by his pounding heart. He went over speed limits and broke more laws than a person should in a single drive—and a lawyer, no less. It was a miracle they made it in one piece, or at all.

He abandoned his car in front of the hospital entrance, paying no mind to the sign and the security guy that both stated he wasn’t allowed to leave it unattended in that spot, threats of it being towed away fell to deaf ears as he carried Regina in. He already wasted valuable time waiting on the damn ambulance, he wasn’t willing to waste another second. To hell with his car. The fee of getting it back wasn’t something he couldn’t afford.

“Excuse—excuse me,” Robin stammered, frantically trying to grab somebody’s attention but everyone seemed too busy to spare them a glance. Nurses and doctors rushed past them as if they were invisible. Some were caught in their own world, chatting away in low murmurs while others tended to different patients. Aggravating as it was, it wasn’t until Regina quietly sobbed against him that something didn’t feel right with the baby—hasn’t since the accident—that he snapped. “Can someone please, for the love of God, fucking help my fiancée?!”

That did it. His booming voice stilled the bustling room and all the attention was finally drawn to him.

“Sir—”

“ _Do not,_ ” he demanded, his jaw clenched in anger as the middle-aged nurse approached him, his sharp tone forcing her a step back. The last thing he needed was to be told to stay calm. So much has happened in the span of a half an hour that the word calm sounded so foreign to him. “My fiancée was in a bloody accident! We called for help and we waited for an ambulance that never showed up. I didn’t run Heaven only knows how many red lights to get here just for our pleas to be ignored by another set of people that are meant to help. She’s pregnant— _for Pete’s sake_ —and nobody’s willing to stop for a goddamn minute to aid her, so don’t tell me to calm the fuck down!” A deep breath filled his lungs before he continued with a wavering voice as his emotions set in and tears misted his vision, “Now, if you’d please, do something or so help me I will burn down this building to the ground if anything happens to either of them.”

The heaviness of the tense atmosphere surrounding them was cut through by the older nurse’s deep exhale as she finally gestured for her younger colleague to bring out a wheelchair. Relieved, Robin hurriedly sat Regina down on it and planted a kiss to the top of her head out of instinct, and as his hands reached to grab the handles, the older woman took charge instead.

“I’ll take her, you fill out the forms,” she ordered.

“But—”

“You did your part by bringing her here, let us do ours now,” she interrupted.

Reluctantly, he did as he was told. He stood back and watched as Regina was wheeled away to be examined.

Funnily enough, although he should’ve been at ease knowing she was being taken care of by professionals, he wasn’t. The nauseating feeling of his guts twisting in warning grew as he scrawled down the required information. It’d be a miracle if anyone managed to read his writings at that point—he hardly recognized the scribbled letters himself.

“First child?”

Robin lifted his head at the question, only to be greeted by the warmth of a smile given to him by the older woman behind the desk. He swallowed the lump of emotions lodged in his throat and nodded with the best halfhearted smile he could muster. “Yeah, first.”

“Boy or girl?” the woman asked enthusiastically, her beam growing—and there was something about it, something about her aura and the conversation she tried to hold with him that eased his stress, if only just by a bit.

“A girl,” he answered, his own smile stretching wider at the thought of his unborn daughter.

Despite the surprise that was the pregnancy, and the immense weight of the extra expenses and the impending birth of the little one that came with it, he was over the moon and ever so in love.

Unlike most expecting parents he came across, he didn’t have a preference when it came to the baby’s gender—he didn’t think so, anyway.

Whenever the question roused in conversations on whether he hoped for a boy or a girl, he responded in all honesty that he didn’t care as long as the baby was born healthy, and had its ten little toes and ten little fingers. That was what mattered—and he truly believed that. Until one night he and Regina decided a gender reveal party was too much of a hustle and opened the envelope on their own, and in the comfort of their bed instead.

Girl.

It was a single word written on the center of a too big of a note. A single word seemingly powerful enough to make a grown man cry—all out of joy, of course.

He didn’t have a preference, until he realized he couldn’t wait for his little princess to be born.

“You got a name for her yet?” the woman asked, and Robin shook his head in response.

They had a list full of names—boys, girls and neutral—and every week they switched it up and referred to the baby by one of them, hoping something would sound right. Sadly, nothing stuck. No trendy or old-fashioned name was liked enough by either of them to be approved. With over dozens and dozens of names crossed out, he had no doubt the baby would end up nameless for a few days at the very least.

“Don’t stress it too much,” she reassured with a lighthearted chuckle, “Lord knows it took me ages before I named my babies.” She leaned forward over the desk a bit, her smile ever so bright. “You know, I was one of those people that had a name picked out from the very beginning. I was so set on it that it had me wondering how the hell do other parents find it so difficult to name their children even after their birth? I mean, we get nine months to decide! Sounds easy enough, right? Turns out it isn’t. Because when my firstborn finally came into the world, I looked at her and realized that no, she absolutely does not look like Angelica, and as much as I loved that name, I went with another.”

In spite of the stressful situation thrusted upon them in the middle of the night, he chuckled some at her story and stopped writing to momentarily look at her. “So, what did you go with in the end?”

“Grace,” she replied with a fond smile. “A name I would’ve never thought of in my wildest dreams, but she looked like Grace.” With a nonchalant shrug, she added, “Moral of the story, son, life’s going to do whatever the hell life wants to do. Doesn’t matter how carefully planned every little detail is, if it ain’t meant to be, it ain’t happening, and you just gotta let it do its thing.”

But that was the thing with him and life, they never saw eye-to-eye. Every hurdle was met with the same ideology, and every time he tried to convince himself that things _did_ happen for a reason, worse things followed. So, was it truly that or was he one of the unfortunate ones that, for whatever reason, God hated?

Because in that moment, it felt like the latter.

He was in the process of resuming the task he was given when Regina’s voice startled and stilled every person in the room. His name falling from her lips as a helpless sob, forcing him to abandon everything and follow as she was wheeled away down the corridor with a bunch of nurses rushing past and following behind.

“What’s happening?” he asked frantically, taking his fiancée’s hand in his when she reached out for him, fingernails puncturing his skin at her death grip but he hardly felt the pain. All his focus was on her.

Without missing a beat and stopping for a second, the doctor explained, “The baby’s heartbeat is abnormally low and it’s getting worse by the minute.” As if that wasn’t a bombshell that required time to process, she continued with more horrid news, “We don’t have any other choice but to perform an emergency c-section.”

“But she’s not due for another couple weeks,” he argued.

“The baby’s fully developed,” she replied. “It’s our best bet, and unless we work fast, the chances of her surviving at all will be nonexistent, Mr.Locksley.”

“Wait, no,” Regina argued through tears, her grip tightening around his hand. “There has to be something else you could do. I—I don’t want this. Robin, I don’t want a cesarean, please.”

“It’ll be alright,” he soothed, forcing a smile in place of his frown in order to comfort her.

They discussed birth plans months prior and settled on two options—an assisted home birth with a midwife present, supervising every step of the way and a water birth that the hospital offered if things weren’t as smooth sailing as they hoped for them to be. A cesarean, however, wasn’t on the list. It was brought up, of course. They were told it was a must in case of an emergency and Regina signed the papers proving her consent over it. But a cesarean was something she dreaded, she told him so. She cried every other night after it was brought up the first time at the doctor’s office and voiced her concerns over being wide awake and cut open, and her worries over the possibility of hemorrhaging.

Honestly, so was he.

It crossed his mind, too, and it scared the living daylight out of him regardless of how slim the chances of that happening were. In that moment though, they didn’t really have any other choice but to go with it. It was that or losing their unborn daughter.

His hand unwillingly slipped away from Regina’s when one of the nurses stopped in front of him, blocking him from entering the operation room. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’re not allowed in,” he said.

“What?” His eyes widened as panic started to rise within him. “What do you mean I can’t go in? Sh—she needs me. Regina _needs me_ ,” he reasoned, but the nurse shook his head in refusal. “Please, you don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry but the room would be too crowded. We need to focus on providing the best care for the mother and the baby,” the nurse explained.

He understood. They needed him out of the way so they could focus on Regina and their unborn baby rather than accidentally bumping into him at every turn. He knew why he couldn’t be there, but he needed to be. “Please,” he whispered, unshed tears brimming his eyes. “I have to be with her, she’s scared and—and I promised her that should it ever come to this, I will be with her.”

“You will be,” the nurse promised, his voice gentle and kind, and not at all irritated over his persistence that withheld him from doing his job. “But right now, we need to give them our undivided attention and…sometimes being in there and seeing the blood, and the procedure take place and all that can be too much to the patient’s partner. Sometimes they faint, sometimes they run around looking for a bucket to puke into, so it’s better for everyone if you sit here and let us do our job.” He pursed his lips and then offered Robin a small, reassuring smile. “It _shouldn’t_ take long, and before you know it, you’ll be heading home as a party of three.”

With that, the man turned around and walked in, leaving Robin a mess outside of the operation room.

* * *

According to the nice lady behind the desk, cesareans usually went on for half an hour to about an hour, and the old, dusty clock right above the operation room’s entrance indicated that it’d been exactly forty-three minutes since they took Regina in. Forty-three torturous minutes of not knowing what was going on behind the closed doors, of him pacing back and forth in front of it without a moment of rest.

It wouldn’t take long. It shouldn’t take long—he was promised that.

At the forty-four minutes mark, the doors finally opened. Two nurses rushed past him with an incubator in tow, paying him no mind as they whisked the baby away. His unspoken questions remained unheard. All he got was a glimpse of something small and pink as he was left there, again, with no answers or news. He would’ve followed, but his feet were glued in place. He couldn’t bear moving until he knew _something_ about Regina.

Five more minutes; no updates.

Surely it was nothing worrisome. Every procedure was different, some were over right in time while others took longer. They were more than likely stitching her up and preparing to move her into her own room to recover.

He hoped.

Another five minutes turned into ten, and the fear started to gnaw at him when the worry replaced the confidence on the nice lady’s face. Her smile grew smaller overtime until it faded off her features, and her brows creased with uneasiness every time she looked over at him the longer he was left in the dark. No more words of encouragement or reassurance, only sympathetic, tightlipped smiles.

He wasn’t religious. He believed in God and his existence, but it’d been years since his tongue uttered a prayer. That connection was lost in time, in heartbreak and misery, and in years of disappointments. Still, he found himself praying when the hour was up and no one came out to brief him on his fiancée. His heart beseeching earnestly to the omnipotent.

Alas, God did have his favorites and he wasn’t one of them.

The doors finally opened with ease, barring any sense of serenity as the doctor walked out on her own.

He knew it.

The moment he saw her approaching with her head bowed, he knew exactly what to expect. It was just like every other heartbreaking scene in television, where the doleful doctor left the operation room to break the terrible news to the distraught family that their loved one didn’t make it. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t television. It was real life and it was his life, and he wasn’t prepared for that.

He shook his head when she came closer, refusing to listen and accept whatever she had to say. Regardless, she did her job and went ahead with the infamous line nobody wanted to hear in a hospital.

“I’m sorry.”

He knew it. From the second the doors opened, he felt it. All it took were those two words for it to sink in.

“We did everything we could,” the doctor swore, her voice thick with sorrow. “Her body couldn’t handle the shock of the accident and the surgery and…and her heart stopped.”

“You’re lying,” he muttered, shaking his head in denial. “You’re lying. She—God—she wouldn’t, she’s—“

“Mr.Locksley—“

“You’re lying!” he snapped through the burning tears. “She wouldn’t just leave! Not me, and especially not our daughter. She—“ he choked out, collapsing to the ground as his knees buckled under the heavy weight of grief and guilt, sobs racking his body.

It was a lie. A sick, twisted one but a lie, nonetheless. The Regina he knew wasn’t one to give up so easily. She wouldn’t have given up on something she’d been wanting and waiting months for. It was a lie…it had to be.

Everything faded in the back, incoherent words coming from all around him that he couldn’t quite comprehend. The voices in his head overpowered them, putting all the blame on him—and they were right. It was his fault. Everything that happened, happened because of him. Had he just eaten the goddamn cookie, the unfortunate chain of events that took placed would’ve never occurred. They wouldn’t have fought, stormed out of the house in the dead of night, and got into that crash. They would have been in the safety of their home, sitting next to one another on the couch.

Instead, he was on the cold, tile floor of a hospital, surrounded by curious onlookers and concerned medical professionals, forced to deal with the consequences of his words.

Because of him, Regina lost her life.

Because of his selfishness and pertinacity over something so stupid, their daughter would grow up never knowing one of the most remarkable people he had the pleasure of having in his life, and it was fucking unfair.

The worst part of it all, perhaps, was the way things came to an end. All the harsh words he said to her that he couldn’t take back and apologize for. She died, and the last thing he did was point his finger at her over something that took both of them to create. She died alone, scared—and he couldn’t help but wonder if she knew he loved her despite his childish outburst.

God, he’d give anything just to tell her that one last time.

Consumed with remorse, Robin sobbed into his hands as the doctor gave her condolences and walked away, and others stared sympathetically from afar. How the hell was he supposed to get up and go on with life when the woman he loved laid motionless in the room behind him? He built his life around her. His favorite things came from her—favorite foods, favorite places, favorite colors and scents, and favorite movies and songs. His days began and ended with her.

He didn’t know life without her in it, and while she taught him so many things in the years he’d known her, she never taught him how to live without her.

He didn’t know if he could live without her.

* * *

The white she wore wasn’t the white he looked forward to seeing her in. They were plain, undyed bedsheets covering her cold, pale body—a far cry from her dream wedding dress with its silk and lace, and all the little details she told him about. She looked as beautiful as she would’ve in it though. It was eerie how relaxed she appeared. He could’ve easily mistaken her for being in a deep, peaceful sleep.

If only it was that.

If only she was taking a quick nap after a long and tiring day.

But it wasn’t, because when he approached her and bent to kiss her forehead, she didn’t flinch like she usually did. She didn’t bat an eye or move a muscle. Only then did it dawn on him that she was truly gone.

He sank his teeth into his trembling bottom lip in a desperate attempt to keep himself from falling apart again, but as soon as the first sob left him, the rest were impossible to stifle.

“I’m sorry,” he wept, taking advantage of the last bit of closeness he could get with her before having to say goodbye for good as he pressed his forehead to hers. His hand cupped her cheek, subconsciously still holding onto the hope that the gentle strokes that usually woke her up in the morning would do the job again. They didn’t. Her eyes were still closed and she remained unmoving, her breathing didn’t tickle his cheek with every exhale she let out as it did whenever she slept with her face right next to his. “I’m so sorry.”

Just like that, one stupid sentence turned his life upside down in the worst possible way imaginable. His best friend was gone, and it felt like his soul was torn into pieces. Like the world came to a sudden halt and nothing made sense or mattered anymore.

He shared over a decade of his life with her. He loved, laughed, cried and grew with her—how the hell was he supposed to navigate through the rest of it _without_ her? The mere thought of waking up every morning and not being greeted by her radiant smile or hearing her contagious laugh throughout the day was implausible.

Who would make a boring trip to the grocery store bearable with her goofiness?

Who would spontaneously burst into song at the most random times of the day?

Who would point at various pictures of animals caught just in the right moment and compare them to him?

Who would bend over in the middle of a busy street just to pick up one of the possible hundreds of feathers that she picked over the years and still get excited over it?

Who would go on the daily morning runs with him and tease him over getting old every time he fell behind?

Who would challenge him to new things and cheer him on even after failing?

Who, if not her?

Eventually, his sobs subsided into occasional sniffles and hiccups, and when the time came for him to leave for them to start the process of moving her body from the hospital to the church’s chapel until the time of her funeral, he planted a lingering kiss to her forehead and reluctantly moved away. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t budge. He’d stay with her for eternity, as they promised one another. Sadly, that was neither healthy nor was it an option.

Instead, he settled on what he _could_ have—a small lock of her hair folded in a napkin and tucked away securely in his pocket. A small piece of her to carry with him wherever he went for as long as he lived.

* * *

In place of a lavish wedding, an abrupt funeral took place. All the flowers that were meant to decorate the reception and the bride’s bouquet were gathered into the wreaths surrounding the open casket instead. Sunflowers, white roses and baby breaths—just some of Regina’s favorites. She would’ve loved how they turned out to be. Knowing her though, she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to tweak a little something here and there. Little Miss Perfectionist. Nothing was ever good enough unless it had her magical touch added to it, no matter how small.

He hoped she would’ve approved of her attire, too. He wasn’t a professional stylist but he did his best, picking and putting together a presentable outfit, all the while trying to keep himself from breaking down every time his fingers skimmed over the fabric of every item she owned. In the end, after long hours and half of the closet emptied onto the floor around him, he settled on the simple, off-shoulder, white dress that she adored. The same dress she wore the day he proposed to her. She looked stunning in it then and in that moment as well.

The difference in it was her bare finger.

At first, he intended on letting it be buried with her. He had no use for it and it seemed like the reasonable thing to do. He bought it for her, he wasn’t going to pawn it off for some quick money or benefit from it any other way. However, after speaking to Cora about it, he took her suggestion into consideration and decided to keep it to pass it down to their daughter, something from her mother for her to hold onto.

The funeral was...well, as funerals were expected to be.

Friends and family members he’d never met before were finally together under one roof but for the entirely wrong reason, and instead of _congratulations_ people were giving their condolences. The tears shed weren’t tears of happiness, but despair. It wasn’t a toast to the bride and groom, and well wishes on the new chapter of their lives, but a speech of remembrance of the exceptional life taken too soon, stories from her childhood that he never heard before, stories of all the good things she did.

Somehow, by some miracle, he kept it together until the very end when he was ushered up to say something, too.

He planned to.

He had a whole, tear-stained paper written, words on the front and back of it with little space in between them.

He wanted to share with the world the Regina he knew and fell so madly in love with. The cordial soul of a selfless woman who always put others before herself because their happiness made her happy. The silly social butterfly who made every event ten times better with her presence and was the life of every party.

But when he stood there ready to pour his heart out, the heaviness weighing over his chest grew and, after days of numbness and pent-up anguish, he finally broke down in tears and bawled in front of a room full of other mourners.

He couldn’t talk about the woman he loved in a past tense. The fact that everything she did then were things of days gone by that would never happen again. No more hearing her voice, no more feeling her kisses, no more losing tee shirts only to find them days later in their rightful place with her scent clinging to them, and no more being held and comforted by her after every bad day at work.

No more of her.

Everything that followed was a blur. The day quickly came to an end. The service was over and everyone left the church in preparation for the burial. Everyone aside from him. He stayed behind for a few moments longer for a proper goodbye, because what he had back at the hospital didn’t count. He wasn’t over the initial shock, he wasn’t in the right headspace to process his thoughts into words.

He still wasn’t, but saying what he had to say to a headstone wouldn’t be the same.

He began by adjusting her hair and outfit, tamed down any wild curls that were out of place, wiped away any smeared makeup, and smoothed out the wrinkles on her dress, all the while fighting to keep the tears at bay as he gathered his thoughts.

It started with a feeling—he missed her so goddamn much. Their house wasn’t a home without her in it, and the bed that once felt too small for the both of them with her taking up the majority of it in her awkward sleeping positions was too big and empty. He woke up every morning expecting to hear the shower running and went into every room twice just in case he missed her the first time around and by the second, she was there. She never was.

A heartfelt apology followed. It wouldn’t bring her back, it wouldn’t change anything, and he wasn’t sure it would make the guilt go away, but she deserved it from him. He, the person that promised to never let the smile leave her face, hurt her in the most painful way a person could hurt a loved one.

He told her about their nameless daughter and how much she resembled her, from the mop of dark hair she was born with and the shape of her ears, to the astonishing strength packed into someone as small as her. Despite her dramatic entrance into the world, all she needed was a little bit of oxygen to help her breathe properly and some cuddles, and a few extra nights under the care of the professionals to put his mind at ease. He already lost one person he loved more than he loved himself, he wasn’t risking the loss of another.

He did what he’d done every day since it first happened years ago—he whispered _I love you_ into her ear seventeen times, all together because spacing them out through the day wasn’t possible anymore. He couldn’t wake her up with one or say it with a stolen kiss before heading to work. He couldn’t say it in the middle of preparing a meal together or whenever he felt like it at the most random times. He _could_ call her or text her, but she would never respond to them.

And before he left, he tucked a little note between her hands that were folded over her torso, reminding her that he loved her, forever and always— _seventeen times._

* * *

“Cecilia?” Robin suggested to himself out loud as he shifted his gaze away from the long list of possible names Regina left behind to the baby sleeping comfortably on his lap.

While it was a nice name, she didn’t exactly look like a Cecilia to him. In fact, the more names he ticked off while staring at her, the less she looked like anything at all. It was frustrating. She was almost two weeks old and still referred to by the nickname her mother gave to her long before she was even born. He wasn’t even sure if the nice receptionist’s little trick would work. The last thing he needed was to accidentally settle on a pretty name with a morbid meaning that’ll haunt her for the rest of her life.

“No,” he muttered in defeat, clicking his pen and scratching that one off the list, too. “Your mom wouldn’t have liked it.”

He was almost at the very bottom, a couple more to go through, and it was beginning to stress him out. If he couldn’t do something as simple as picking a name for his daughter, how the hell was he supposed to take good care of her? If he could swap places with Regina, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He was incapable of being half of the parent he knew she would’ve been.

But she was gone, and even though he was still coming to terms with his new reality, he needed to be there for his daughter. He needed to be present in ways other than just being physically around.

Robin cleared his throat and briskly wiped away his unshed tears with a sniffle. “Okay...alright. Well, I suppose we can always revisit this again tomorrow.” She’d gone approximately two weeks without a name, what’s one more day without it? It wasn’t like it would affect her. She wouldn’t even remember it.

Life, however, had other plans.

As he folded the paper to return it into the drawer by his head, a writing on the back of it caught his attention.

 _Bellatrix_.

A single name scribbled right on the center of the paper and circled multiple times with a little _note-to-self_ underlined beside it—a reminder from Regina to herself to bring it up the next time they discussed names. It was how she went out of her way to add _another_ note beneath it just to blame her pregnancy brain over being so forgetful that pulled a chuckle out of him, especially that she _did_ forget. It was a name she never told him about before.

He looked down at the baby nestled against him and brushed the back of his index along her cheek. The little smile she gave in her sleep said it all.

"Bellatrix,” he said in affirmation. “Starfish, I think we finally have a name,” he cooed, then turned his attention out of the window to the full moon gleaming brightly down over the city. His hand reached for the pendent hanging from the chain around his neck as a small, wistful smile pulled at his lips, and he whispered, “We finally have a name, darling, and...” he trailed off with a light chuckle when it set in how, with a stroke of luck, their top picks for a name aligned so well. “I think I have the perfect middle name to go with it.”

It was a nod to Regina and one of the things she loved dearly, and with the name she chose, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Bellatrix Mari,” he announced, turning the baby to face the window as well. The shuffling woke her up, but instead of wailing at the disturbance like he feared she would, the sweetest coo came from her, quickly followed by a faint smile as she basked in the moonbeam shining directly at her. “Yeah, I think your mommy chose the perfect name.”

* * *

Present Day

Flying home from anywhere in the world at any given time usually came with a glum feeling over the trip coming to an end. To Robin, it was a little different. He went on it with a purpose and returned with conflict. Almost everything on Regina’s list was ticked off, save for the last one he planned on fulfilling before the end of the year and yet, he wasn’t entirely at peace like he hoped he would be. The same emptiness that once took over his chest returned. A cold void that, despite the hollowness of it, overwhelmed him. Only this time, it wasn’t as great. It was there, it was present, but it didn’t weigh him down the same way it did all those years ago when Regina passed. Still and all, his heart wasn’t as heavy knowing— _hoping_ —she did forgive him after all, and loved him, and was at peace wherever she was.

He just missed her, terribly.

Getting the extra baggage Robin carried with him up the stairs was a struggle. He left home with one suitcase, returned with another and then some. It wasn’t intentional, it just happened. Every town and every city that welcomed him deserved a little more than just his memories to go by, and so souvenirs were in order, and he might’ve gone a little overboard with them.

He settled everything down by his feet and fished the keys out of his pocket. The house wasn’t vacant—Regina's parents offered to temporarily move in to look after his daughter while he was gone rather than moving the youngster out of the comfort of her own home and bedroom. But he didn’t want to knock or ring the bell, and risk disturbing them in case they were asleep, even though it wasn’t too late in the evening.

It hardly mattered though. It seemed the rustling of the keys and the struggles of shuffling around everything that was on him prevented him from being as stealthy as he hoped to be. The door opened and Regina’s dad, Henry, came into view with a sigh.

“Jesus, Robin. I thought someone was trying to break in!” the old man exclaimed, and Robin laughed, shaking his head.

“No, just me,” he replied. “Although I was trying to be sneaky.”

"In your own home?” Henry responded with a chortle and took a step back to hold the door wide open for him. When he extended his hand to help carry some of the weight off him, Robin gave him the lightest bags. He wasn’t going to let a guest, especially an elderly man, carry anything in general when he was more than capable of doing it himself, but he knew Henry wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Why would you do that?”

“In case everyone was asleep,” he answered.

“No, we’re all up. Cora just finished giving Trixie a bath,” Henry said, gesturing up the staircase that led to the second-story bathroom. “We had a little accident in the kitchen—flour everywhere—because someone decided it’s the greatest idea to start making some chocolate chip cookies at nine o’clock. And you know Cora, she can never say no to her.”

True to the old man’s words, flour was, indeed, everywhere. It was a sight hard to miss as they walked past the kitchen. He’d definitely get to that...in the morning.

“You’re blaming your wife like you’re not just as bad,” Robin pointed out teasingly. “You let Trixie get away with almost everything.”

“How can I not? Have you seen that face? It’s hard saying no to her,” Henry justified.

It was true, and he knew that feeling all too well. One look at those puppy eyes she inherited from her mother and he’d give her the moon if she asked for it.

“Daddy!”

And there she was, rushing down the stairs regardless of all his warnings over the years advising her against it, dressed in her favorite panda onesie, her damp curls bouncing with every prance she took.

Robin abandoned the suitcase he was holding and swooped her up when she jumped into his arms. “Hi, sweetheart,” he cooed, pecking the side of her head as she clung to him.

“Hi, daddy,” she mumbled. “I missed you.”

"I missed you, too, Starfish.” Despite the smile on his face, tears of guilt swam behind his eyelids. He discreetly hid his sniffle behind a chuckle as he moved back and promised, “And I’m never, ever going away for that long ever again.”

* * *

After agreeing to stay the morning for breakfast, at the very least, Henry and Cora retired into the guest bedroom for the night, and Robin did the honors of tucking Trixie in. His body ached and his eyelids were droopy, but he couldn’t deny his daughter’s request for a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss. Sleep could wait for a few moments longer. One thing he learned was that all those little moments were irreplaceable, and those were the moments that mattered the most in the end.

“So, what did you get me?” Trixie inquired with the cheekiest grin, and Robin laughed out loud in surprise at her bluntness.

“Is that why you’re so happy I’m back? Because you’re excited to see what gifts I got you?” he asked, pulling the blanket up and securely around her, and she nodded without even attempting to deny it. God, she really was her mother’s daughter. “Well...I got you loads of stuff but they’re all buried deep down in my suitcase, so it’ll take sometime for me to get everything out.”

Her shoulders sagged and a pout quickly replaced her smile. “So, I gotta wait until tomorrow?”

“Well...not quite,” he replied. “There’s this one thing that I kept aside —”

“Can I have it now?” she interrupted impatiently. “Please, I’d really like to.”

He chuckled. Ever so polite—how was he supposed to refuse that? “Fine,” he drawled lightheartedly. “Let me go and get it then.”

With the curious little one moments away from combusting with excitement, Robin rushed down the stairs and retrieved the white box he forgot by the front door in the midst of greeting everyone earlier. It worried him for a split second that he might’ve accidentally forgot it on the plane or the ride back home when he failed to find it in the bedroom amongst everything else. It was, possibly, the most prized item he brought home with him from the trip, and it wasn’t price-related that made it so valuable.

“What is it?” Trixie asked as soon as he came into view again, and he shrugged, setting the box on the bed in front of her.

“What’s the purpose of a gift if I already tell you what it is?” He raised a brow, then nodded toward the box with a smile. “Go on, open it.”

She went right ahead without hesitation and tore the top open. The content of it elicited a gasp from her. She reached in and pulled the light brown stuffed bunny out and instantly into her arms. It warmed his heart seeing how happy she was with something so simple—and it wasn’t even what made the stuffed animal so special.

Her brows creased and she gave it a sniff, then turned to him with wide eyes. “Daddy! It smells like strawberries.”

“I know,” he chuckled, lowering himself onto the bed next to where she sat. “But that’s not all.”

“It’s not?” she asked in bewilderment, and he shook his head in confirmation, wrapping his arms around her when she nestled into his side and stared up at him in awe. “What else?”

“Well, if you press its paw, it’ll tell you a secret,” he said in a hushed tone, as if it truly was a secret.

The fact that the stuffed bunny was more than just a regular stuffed bunny excited her, so she pressed the paw just as instructed, and the all-to-familiar voice of his late fiancée came through.

_Hey, you. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, more than all the stars in the universe and as deep as the deepest point the ocean goes._

The audio ended with Regina blowing her signature kiss, and it took everything in Robin not to cry as he explained, “Now you’ve got a little something from mommy to always keep with you, and to always remind you just how much she loved you.”

Trixie nodded, but being as young as she was, she couldn’t fathom the extent of death and the heaviness of it. To her, mommy just wasn’t around. To her, mommy was right between the stars they looked out at every night before he tucked her in bed. So, when the newly-tattooed skin on his wrist caught her eyes, her attention was immediately shifted out of interest.

“Daddy, why do you have stickers—right there?” she said, clumsily prodding the sensitive skin, and he took ahold of her hand rather than swatting it away in pain, and helped guide her curious finger along it with a chuckle.

“It’s not a sticker, those are tattoos,” he explained. “This one’s a starfish—”

“Like me!” she declared.

“Like you,” he confirmed with a snicker, then pointed at the smaller, white tattoo right beside it and added, “and this one’s a butterfly, because your mommy loved them a lot.” Amongst other reasons that were too deep for a five-year-old to understand. Nevertheless, she accepted the brief explanation, and judging by the yawn that came after it, that was more than likely the reason she opted out of her one hundred and one questions about it. “Alright, young lady. I think it’s time you get some sleep. It’s _way_ past your bedtime.”

“Okay, daddy,” she muttered with the most dramatic sigh, but her tired eyes proved she wouldn’t have put up a fight, anyway.

Robin climbed off the bed and laid her down, tucking her back in with the stuffed bunny in her arm. Another kiss to her forehead as he whispered, “Goodnight, Starfish,” before flicking the nightlight on and stepping out.

Leaving the door ajar was something he always did out of instinct. Most nights, nothing came from it. Others, during the rare occasions, it gave her a quicker exit during thunderstorms and blizzards that spooked her. What he didn’t expect as he turned to leave was Regina’s voice coming through the toy again, stopping him dead in his tracks. The thought of Trixie listening to the audio time after time warmed his heart, but not as much as hearing her sleepy, muffled voice soon follow.

_“I love you, too, Mommy.”_

It wasn’t how those words were meant to be exchanged by the mother and daughter, but all things considered, there was nothing sweeter than actually getting the opportunity to hear it, however it was.

He looked down at the tattoo on his wrist with a shuddered breath and whispered, “And I love you, too, Regina Mills, more than all the stars in the universe and as deep as the deepest point the ocean goes.”


End file.
